To Where It All Began
by Kung-lou
Summary: Harry had had a good life, a long life. One filled with family and exploring the limits of magic. At the end, he was ready to greet death as his ancestors had, as an old friend. It seems however that magic and death weren't finished with him. Master of Death, Political.
1. The Death of Harry Potter

**Title:** To Where It All Began

**Author name:** Kung-lou

**Author email:** AU

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Harry had had a good life, a long life. One filled with family and exploring the limits of magic. At the end, he was ready to greet death as his ancestors had, as an old friend. It seems however that magic and death weren't finished with him. Master of Death, Political.

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these characters.

Author notes: AU, OC Updated 19/01/2020

**Chapter 1: The Death of Harry Potter**

"And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."

—The Tale of the Three Brothers

**Year 2189**

Harry Potter was dying.

He wasn't dying in some epic battle with dark wizards, 'I left that sort of thing behind a century ago' he thought with a wry grin. Nor was he dying in a fight for survival between the magical and muggle world with their ever increasingly advanced technology. 'Though,' he chuckled to himself, reminiscing of past misadventure. 'There had been a near miss once or twice.'

"Ignition pulse in three, two, one. Pulse"

No, after a rich and long life it was time. Management of the Black and Potter houses had long ago been handed over to his children. No doubt they themselves had grandchildren by now. He had imparted what wisdom he could, and after a century of exploring the limits of magic it was time to allow his magic to add to the family identity. Harry Potters legacy was secure. Both the Black and Potter magics would change and adapt with his death, as with all family members, adding and evolving the family identity throughout history. Allowing for families to grow in their power and accumulate abilities.

"Fusion successful, containment field fluctuations within software norms"

Now, at the end, he was reflecting on those explorations into magic and how many foolish notions and expectations he had overcome. He had explored the very nature of magic and its place in the universe. Investigating the limits of the hard rules that he had lapped up as a lonely, ignorant child and searching for the boundaries of possibilities without rules. It was how he found himself here - orbiting the proto-planet of Eris, at the very edge of the heliosphere. "Perhaps it is somehow fitting, at the end, that I would witness what may be the start of muggles re-engaging with the magical world."

He was of course talking to himself, as he so often did these days. He had perhaps delved too deeply into the madness of the Black family magics over the comfortable solidness of the Potter's. It had left him almost as lonely as he was as a child, this time by choice. It was always difficult when you left your peers behind, breaking expectations and pursuing forbidden knowledge outside accepted norms.

Magic was, once you broke from the indoctrination and rules-based approach of the modern wand using communities, so much richer and more flexible. The further you moved from the relatively safe hard center of magic and into the soft, flexible and moldable edge. Where the personal consequences and costs became higher but also the rewards. Often the costs grew very steeply, unexpectantly at random and irreversibly. There was every chance that you could transform yourself into one off the many horrors stuck within the maze between planes fighting for escape, a unique magical beast or even completely erase yourself from existence.

"Vacuum is stable at 10 particles per cubic centimeter"

History was scattered with the individuals who had successfully overcome their limitations to explore and create uniqueness in time, soul, mind and even death magic. Their will, intention and mastery over their magic had given them that capability. It was what had allowed three brothers to delve so deeply into death magic, that they had created the objects he wore today. Objects that had allowed him to become master of death. Failures were wiped from history, or only remembered as cautionary tales.

"Bose–Einstein condensate stable"

The three artifacts of death had begun whispering to him after a time, aiding in his pursuit of magic. Accelerating his progress in crafting his mind and body, and allowing his magic to grow beyond past limitations in order to more efficiently mold magic and bend the universe to his will. The death artifacts had opened his eyes to the sheer possibilities of magic, and his ability to effectively wield it. His narrow minded and dogged pursuit of wanded magic in his formative years had cruelled his potential into its greater mysteries. If life was a journey, he had been led down the wrong magical path and it had taken decades to recover.

Such dogmatic learning of such a hard rules based magic system, although providing early advantages and being far safer, had negatively influenced his growth and limited his potential. A limitation that was shamefully made and enforced on every 11-year-old born and captured by the artifacts within the magical schools today. "No one should decide another's potential – magic is all."

"Starting test mach 1 dash b."

Even as he had accepted his end, and his inability to change society and the magical education system, Harry's curiosity had taken him here. At the very edge of the solar system. Muggles had begun experimenting with the energy between sub atomic particles, zipping in and out of the multitude of dimensions. If harnessed successfully, they would be able to manipulate matter in a way that was analogous to wizarding kind. This method would always be far more limited than those being born able to harness and manipulate magic. But there was a path for re-integration of muggles and wizarding kind in the centuries and decades to come, with a lessening of the visible differences between their capabilities and the fear that fueled.

"Witnessing the inevitability of wizard kinds isolation is a fitting send off," Harry smiled as he remembered his introduction the separated world of magic so long ago. It was a separation that hurt both communities.

"At least one branch of humanity would be united," Harry mumbled as he watched over the test facility carved into the icy world below. "Magic has always created a wealth of isolated communities, over the millennia each focused on their preferred magical aspects. Like a sphere visiting a 2D world, mostly unaware of each other."

Mindlessly running his thumb over his family rings and the accompanying resurrection stone, he heard the bored recital of a muggle scientist below introducing some concern. "Unusual fluctuations in the containment field at 23 degrees to the azimuth," Harry leaned forward with curiosity even as he casually waved his hand, summoning fiery recording glyphs. "It would be fitting that this moment be recorded in the family grimoires."

"Fluctuations approaching soft mitigation limit, preparing to terminate test mach 1 dash b. If continued fluctuations likely to exceed software's capability of dynamically adjusting containment field leading to fusion plume breach and equipment damage."

Harry sighed in disappointment, no doubt alongside the other muggle scientists in the facility, still rubbing the resurrection stone. Frowning he noticed a small quivering in the stone, "What?' The whispering that he had also become so used to over the decade had also silenced. "I had so hoped to be here when they cracked it," even as he knew that someone in his family line would take up his mantle. But he had witnessed the costs of trying to prolong life passed its natural end – he would great death with a full life, satisfied that he had made a mark on this world.

"Fluctuations accelerating, the test wont abort," now there was no mistaking the panic. "Energy from the vacuum shorting the safety circuits. How is this possible."

Harry puzzled as the elder wand and cloak started to vibrate in tune with the resurrection stone. He had assumed the silence meant that it was his time to pass on, to greet death as an old friend and allow his legacy to be borne by his family. Was it possible that the the elder artifacts were interacting with the muggle experiment in some capacity. 'A mystery that is being recorded for posterity,' Harry checked over his wards, feeling for the ambient magic.

"Oh GOD, the Bose–Einstein condensate is somehow interacting with the containment field what.." Perhaps it still was his time to pass on. He doubted that even he, with a lifetime of ritualistic body modifications, could survive the explosion this close to the muggle facility at the edge of the solar system.

"One last mystery," he muttered as the death artifacts hummed, quivered and seemingly interfered with the muggle activity within the hardened muggle bunker. "To you old friend," Harry saluted. "May you have the last laugh," smiling, Harry drew deeply on the ambient magics swirling around Eris as the proto planet exploded.

It would take 9 hours for the light of the explosion to be seen from Earth, those who where looking might have noticed Eris and its moon Dysnomia were gone from the Kuiper Belt, only dust remaining in their place.

(BREAK)

**Year 1986**

Harry blinked as a musty smell filled the air and dust filled his nostrils. He felt small and weak with his thoughts foggy, like he couldn't quiet catch them. He blinked again. His eyes blurred as they hadn't since his early thirties when he had fixed his eyesight. It was dark and Harry found himself somehow jammed into an enclosed space. His thoughts were so slippery, refusing to be grasped. Harry felt for his connection to his magic, it was overwhelming, turbulent and full of coils and eddies. It was not the comfortable familiar ocean of endless possibilities that he had become used to. It was not really that surprising with his body so weak and his mind so clouded.

Harry knew he was forgetting something but his thoughts felt slow, his memories incomplete. The muggles. "I should be dead," he muttered. Even his voice sounded high pitched and weedy thin. His mind refused to grasp onto the moment of his death and his magic swirled, fogging his thoughts further and making him feel nauseous. Harry coughed as he choked on dust and grit, ambient magic reacting to his distress by stirring up dust mites and fluff alike.

"My cloak," Harry gasped, suddenly he realized what he was missing. His rings and wand were also absent. Feebly reaching out to the connection which had been the cornerstone of his magic for so long, he stumbled feeling like he was walking a well-trodden path that no longer existed.

Shuddering, he became aware of the frigid cold, and the broken spring digging into his back. "There can really only be one place, but how?" Harry was back, in the cupboard under the stairs. "Or more likely when?"

Now that his thoughts were slowly starting to clear, he knew that there was only one way to be back under the stairs. The taste of blood wards, like an acrid burn at the back of his throat further confirmed his theory, adding further to his nausea.

"Well now, I guess you did get the last laugh." Harry chuckled, feeling instead like exploding into full throated laughter. He hadn't thought of the Dursley's for decades and couldn't really care less if he might wake them. Over such a long lifetime, they had been a mere blip, although a formative one. Even so, best not to tempt fate further.

Flexing his magic in a practiced wandless way, even with its current instability, such a simple task should have been an almost unconscious effort. Instead when he gently pushed against the bolted door, intending to unlock it quietly and make his escape, his magic coiled strangely, unexpectedly. Rather than opening as expected, his push violently exploded the door straight off its hinges and through the gyprock wall on the other side of the hallway. The molten metal slag from the bolts and hinges hissed dangerously on the wooden floorboards.

"BOOOOY," a walrus like bark followed by stomping came from upstairs.

"Well I guess I woke the muggles, that's going to be a problem," Harry almost panted as he crawled out from under the stairs. He ignored the house frame he could now see through the hole in the wall. He felt so weak, his thoughts like eels in heavy fog.

"WHAT HAS YOUR FREAKISHNESS DONE," Harry looked up the stairs and could see his uncle standing at the top looking down on him, staring between him and the damage Harry had wrecked on his house. Lights started to go on around him as his aunt emerged from her room and Harry watched as his uncles face oscillated between purple and deep red despite his aunts restraining arm.

"Hello uncle, you're not as fat as I remember you," Harry quipped. Between his uncontrolled magic, his feeling of weakness and the incredulity of the situation he felt almost delirious. It was also dangerous. Not only for his aunt and uncle, but also for himself. He had worked hard to maintain a careful balance between his mind, body and magic.

Growing and evolving all three with clear intent and appropriate will. Having one aspect overpower any of the others could have unexpected and do potentially irreversible harm. In this state, his magic could stunt his growth and corrode his mind which could rapidly form negative feedback loops impacting his magic and soul. There would be no coming back from that. At best he would become a cautionary tale.

If he was, as it appeared back in time, then it also threatened to permanently damage his magical and physical development.

With his magic twisting and coiling as it was, begging for release he was almost frightened that he might rip open a hole into the maze between planes with devastating consequences for the world. Worse, if he didn't get control quickly, he feared for himself. He couldn't remember a time when he felt this exposed and less in control.

Ironic for, by all appearances, being a child back in the Dursleys residence.

"Aunt, Uncle," Harry idly wondered what it might look like to someone who might stumble across the scene. A small undersized boy, wreckage around him, frightened, desperate with angry and large adults looking down like they would like nothing better than to take the damage out of his hide. But he had bigger concerns than even where, when or how. He had to do something about the imbalance in his magic, the weakness of his body and mind that threatened to damn him.

"Be seeing you," and with that he apparated to a place he knew he could reach. A place where the Potter family magics of solidness and reliability would aid in supporting the process of centering himself and holding who he was. While he had a momentarily enough will and concentration to hold onto his core identity, that would not last. His magic would continue to influence his thoughts and development as it adapted to his new reality of such a weakened body and mind. Potentially leading to a loss of knowledge, memory and experience. He may yet loose himself to become someone or something else.

He didn't expect that he could regain all that he was simply or quickly. Harry had taken a life time of shaping himself through magical research to become who he had. But perhaps he could stabilize himself enough that his potential would not become permanently damaged, and to maintain his core identity.

Harry tried very hard not to think the dangerous thoughts that followed, 'If I am not successful, how would I even know." How does a madman know he is mad? If he had in fact come back in time, he could work to recover what he was. With his knowledge, he would even be better off with time.

A loud crack and he landed in the ruined top floor of the Potter cottage. Even in its ruined and neglected state, the Potter family had made its home in Godrics Hollow for generations and the subtle nature of his family magics were pervasive. The proximity to the storied village, the Peverell history and remnant wisps of death magic from his earlier confrontation with Voldemort in this spot would also help – he had always had an affinity to death magic. Harry knew that he would need that advantage and more. He was desperate.

With only a thought to the most basic aversion charms, more could come later, Harry sat comfortably and dove into the art of occlumency. There were better methods, more powerful, more subtle but his magic already threatened his control and strove to adapt his body and mind. If he allowed that to happen randomly, Harry shuddered in dread, it was as likely to be a terrible outcome as a positive one. His thoughts were even more slippery and he suspected he was at dire risk of losing himself.

He certainly gave no thought to the turmoil that his absence would generate through the British wizarding world. By the time people really started to look for him, he would be beyond simple means of discovery.

(BREAK)

Albus Dumbledore was one hundred and five years old this year, and at this moment he felt every one of those years. He sat somberly in his office at Hogwarts waiting for two of his staff to join him but this meeting had nothing to do with his role as headmaster. That role filled him with pride and positivity, educating and shaping the next generation of wizards. Ensuring that they graduated with the right attitude, all ready to make their mark on wizarding society. Oh, there were hold outs but they were mostly in Slytherin and he had Severus keeping an eye on those ones.

No this had more to do with the role he had adopted and pursued with vigor and some might say ruthlessness for most of his adult life. The deep shame in his actions during his youth had forced him through a crucible. It had made him the wizard that he was today. Albus had dedicated his life to limiting the darker impulses of the wizarding world. His roles as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards as well as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot allowed him great influence and with it the ability to shape the future direction of their society. It was influence he had used over the years and continued to use.

He had learned his lessons over the years with his failure to curb young Tom Riddles growing fascination with power and cruelty and his subsequent decent into the role of Lord Voldemort. As a result, he now took a far more active role in events than he may have otherwise. Through the exploitation of his roles as Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock, he was able to effectively guide the wizarding world through procedures and laws.

Albus had used these roles to ban knowledge and the practice of darker magics. He constantly advocated his more enlightened view of muggles and the roles of muggleborn within their society. The curbing of Darker family influence was also a useful by product. This was all done, despite the opposition of the older families, for the benefit of all. It was his life's work, his legacy.

His long tenure as Headmaster of Hogwarts had also allowed him to shape and influence the education of generations of young witches and wizards. Allowing them to avoid the painful lessons he had learned of the corrupting attraction and dangers of dark magic.

When he had failed through the positions he held, as with young Tom, and the Ministry of Magic had been unable to cope he had established his own Order of the Phoenix to fight against Voldemort and for the rights of Muggles and Muggle-born wizards. 'Even so,' he thought 'Without Harry Potter, we would have lost. That conflict really showed me how much more work there was to do.' It as they said, made him step up his game.

After he had placed the infant Harry with his maternal aunt, he had worked hard to undermine the darker families influence in Britain and abroad through all of the committees and forums that he was a member of. He had already started to lay the ground work for Harry's return to the Wizarding world and a world without Tom riling up the older families. The Bones, Doge and Weasley's had been indispensable to the effort. The prophecy gave him great hope for the future of their world.

It was disappointing that so many had failed to be held to account or their actions along with Tom Riddle. The Notts, Blacks and Malfoys where of particular concern, the Blacks at least were mostly an aging, spent force. 'Such a dark family,' Albus mused, 'I cannot regret their passing.' He didn't imagine Pollux, Cassiopeia or Cygnus had long left in this world before they embarked on the next great adventure. 'With Sirius in Azkaban and Regulus presumed dead, it's unlikely they will become a threat in the foreseeable future.'

The events of three days ago had the potential to unravel more than a few of his plans, with potentially dire consequences. He was not prepared. Harry Potter was supposed to be safely behind blood wards, with his location known to a very select few. He had even taken the location from his deputy's mind.

Harry Potter was missing, for all of his wisdom and experience and all of his positions of influence, events could still surprise him. He would not look forward to breaking the news to Minerva that the son of her past students, comrades in arms and former friends was missing. Severus, he suspected, would take it far better. 'No love lost with the Potters, he never really did consider Lily a Potter. Even after she married James.'

Not even Fawkes, as close to his burning day as he was, could cheer him for this meeting. On the desk in front of him sat his penseive where it sat swirling with silver white memories. It was his memories of the moment that he was alerted to the disappearance of Harry Potter from Privet Drive and what he had found. Or perhaps not found.

At first, he had thought it a simple case of accidental magic. A simple case of a scared young boy frightened of the damage he had done and the consequences of coming home. Something easily resolved with a Reparo and the settling of Harry's aunt and uncle minds. With the protective blood wards still fully charged, and a prophecy in play, he was confident no harm could have befallen the boy.

When Harry hadn't returned, and couldn't be found, Albus returned for a deeper survey and investigation of the house and the situation. What he had found had not at all been what he had anticipated. Sadly, the remnants of the accidental magic in the house had by then dissipated or been obscured by his own magics. In his initial rush to resolve a simple incident, he simply failed to conduct a though probe. Now, not even reviewing his memories in a penseive could tell him more. The memories recovered from the Dursleys had been much more insightful. He could not have imagined that Lily's own sister would feel it necessary to subject Harry to the level of emotional abuse and physical deprivation present in her memories.

No doubt such an upbringing would affect Harry once he arrived at Hogwarts, would it make things easier or harder. Albus idly stroked his long white beard in thought. He doubted it would lead to darker tendencies but such experiences shaped children. Already half made plans, taking advantage of the latest information, started taking shape for Harry's eventual return to the wizarding world.

At six years old, Harry should not be alone. Certainly not for the three days he had been missing. He had not decided what he would do once he found him, but the protection of the blood wards was paramount. Even today there were very real magical threats to Harry's safety and wellbeing. It was too early, he had not yet guided and prepared the Wizengamot to where they needed to be before Harry's reemergence to the Wizarding world.

Albus had been studying his memories hoping to see something in his memories that he had missed earlier, something that might be of use to find Harry. There was something off about the memories that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Perhaps Minerva or Severus would spot it.

With the clock running on Harry being missing, he found that he had needed to enlist some discrete help. If the youngest scion of Potter still couldn't be found, he had some more planning to do. Though, with the prophecy, he was confident that Harry would eventually be found.

A dime chimed.

"Please come in Severus, Minerva," he would have smiled at the tension between the two as they entered his office if the situation weren't so serious. The rivalry between the houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin had not seemed to restrict itself to the children of his school. Though he suspected, their former roles in the last blood purity war didn't help.

"Take a seat, what I am about to ask you must be held in the strictest of confidence," he started, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles. Waiting for their stiff nods he started, "Minerva you are aware of some of what I am about to cover but for Severus's sake and for completeness bear with me."

"Since Voldemort's killing curse rebounded and vanquished him roughly five years ago, Harry Potter has been in the care of his muggle maternal aunt and uncle. They have been protected from magical threats through secrecy around their location and a highly specialized blood ward." Albus watched with a small sigh as Severus drew in on himself. James Potter was a sore point for him, it seemed he was unable to let go of his boyhood grudge. "As of three days ago he has been missing from his residence in Little Harrington."

"What do you mean that he is missing," Minerva interjected in disbelief. "I know that I said that they seemed the very worst sort of muggles but how do you LOSE a six-year-old boy. Especially Harry Potter."

"I am assuming Headmaster," Severus drawled managing to convey a sense of impatience and indifference, "that you have called us here tonight because you have already checked the local hospitals, orphanages and exhausted the obvious magical means."

"Indeed," Albus sighed sitting back into his chair, a giant bronze penseive on the most cleared desk in front of him. "I was initially alerted to a bout of accidental magic. Easily reversed," he assured them. "When he didn't return on his own, I investigated further with limited success." This time he gestured to the penseive in front of them, "I don't need to tell you that time is of the essence. A six-year-old Harry Potter cannot remain lost."

While Albus waited for his staff members and confidants, he couldn't help but reflect back on the scene that had found when he had initially arrived at the scene of the accidental magic. It wasn't strange for children to experience accidental magic at night time when they experienced nightmares and their emotions where roiled. As such he hadn't really thought much of it. His mistake, he should have been more thorough.

It was a strange scene. Harry had blown the door off of the cupboard under the stairs, the molten metal of the hinges proof of his agitation, the vigor and strength of his magic. A strangeness that sadly resolved itself on a subsequent visit. Accidental apparition at his age was also very unusual and showed that Harry would one day be a powerhouse of magic. 'If he lived that long,' he thought guiltily thinking of the greater good that would result from the conclusion of the prophecy which involved Harry and Voldemort. It may lead to a golden age of peace and light magic.

Swearing brought him back to the moment as he watched Minerva withdraw from the memories. "Oh Albus, James and Lily's son. How could they," Albus agreed with the sentiment but he had approached them both for their expertise in magic and their familiarization with the Potters as much as his trust in their judgement.

"We have to find Harry first Minerva," Albus nodded as he saw Severus remove himself from the memories "at least it appears to be misadventure and not something more." The passed conflict was still very active in their minds – they had effectively lost their civil war against Voldemort. With his demise, it had merely moved into the economic and political realms. Different philosophies, personal interests and the future of their society would allow nothing else.

"Perhaps not Headmaster," Severus sat, head tilted looking pensive. "The boy, that seemed more than accidental magic after a nightmare. Despite looking quite ill, I swear he smirked before apparating. If it were a conscious act…"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous Severus, his six," Minerva exclaimed. "No six-year-old could intentionally do that, not even Albus. He was scared, and that uncle of his…" she finished with a scowl. Albus had wondered about that, along with Harry's final words, "aunt, uncle, be seeing you." Minerva was right, to consider that, you had to assume that Harry held a level of magical and mental maturity years beyond his six years of age.

"Either way," Albus stood up, wrapping his bright purple cloak around him. "I was hoping that you would both accompany me for an excursion. Perhaps you will see something that I did not. If it is more than mis-adventure," he didn't want to consider the possibility. Equally he would remiss not to. Particularly if Harry had found himself in the hands of any of the Darker families. "Indeed, if it is mal-feasance, I will need you both to help me continue the search."

Reaching out to the shelf behind him he picked up a yellow submarine bath toy. Expecting that reviewing his memories would be a precursor to a visit to Privet Drive, he had prepared a portkey. Holding it out, Severus and Minerva grabbed hold of it with the barest of grimaces over its whimsy.

An uncomfortable trip later and they were knocking on number 4. "Hello Petunia," Albus greeted an uncomfortable looking woman at the front door.

Tall with an uncommonly angular looking face, her eyes darted between Albus, Minerva and Severus before hissing at them. "Well come in quickly, I don't need any further attention. The missing boy threatens to be more than enough of that." She turned around, looking at Albus shrewdly, "unless you can do something about that too." Petunia mimed waving a magic wand in the hallway.

"We shall see," Albus nodded as they entered. Each of the party pulled out their wands and started muttering and waving as they made their way further into the house. He wasn't quite ready to accept Harry lost to him, where would a six-year-old unfamiliar with magic or the magical world go if not back to the home that he knew.

"I don't know that you can blame us for the boy's disappearance," Vernon stomped heavily as he approached the group of witches and wizards moving through his house. He looked decidedly uncomfortable at the magic being done around him. "We gave the boy shelter, food, an education. The ungrateful wretch still wrecked the place," Albus watched as Minerva paused what she was doing visibly biting her tongue in anger. Clearly thinking better of it, she resumed her exploration of the house.

"I can see that Petunia," Severus sneered caustically. "The evidence is all around us. Still, I have what we came for. Headmaster," he nodded his head and stalked out. Minerva followed, glaring malevolently at the Dursleys muttering under her breath about the worse sort of muggles. "Of course," Albus replied smiling gently eyes twinkling, a look that he had perfected to great effect over the years. "We will leave you to your evening."

Keen to see if tonight had been a waste of time, he held out his Portkey retuning them all to where they started the evening. Once more seated in his office, with Fawkes chirping over his shoulder, Albus settled into his chair. "Did you find anything that might help us find Harry? Any clue where he might have gone?"

With Harry kept ignorant of the magical world, he doubted that he would have fled to any magical locations. Perhaps he could alter the blood wards somehow to allow for tracking. 'Yes, it might just be possible,' Albus eyes twinkled at the thought of the challenge. 'The trick will be in beating the natural decay of the blood wards if Harry isn't found.'

"Headmaster," Severus started haltingly with a perplexed frown. "You are aware of my sensitivity to dark magics. I thought I detected a strange echo or residue coming from the cupboard under the stairs. I will have to do some research before I know if it will provide any hint as to his motivations or whereabouts. It is the only thing that I found."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, unless you plan to excuse me from my teaching duties, I have potions assignments to grade."

Albus nodded as Severus made a quick exit. He knew that he would make an effort despite his briskness and reservations. Severus was one of the few who was aware of Harry's role once Voldemort inevitably returned. 'Self-interest will trump boyhood grudges every time,' he thought with satisfaction. It did concern him that Severus Snape had detected a residue, one that was so weak that it had escaped his notice. Putting it out of his mind for now, he expected it was related to the abuse experienced inside the cupboard. Emotions, particularly negative ones, had a way of amplifying magic.

"I am not happy Albus, I warned you and not five years later he is missing. Harry Potter is missing. The house was remarkedly devoid of any evidence Harry even lived there. Still I will do what I can." Minerva stood, and with a last shake of here head, followed Severus out. "Word of this cannot be allowed to get out, people would be devastated."

"Well," Albus turned speaking to Fawkes. "What do to about a missing Harry Potter." He would have to tread carefully. Too many people knew or suspected that he had had a hand in Harry's placement for him to appear unexpectantly. It certainly wouldn't do for Harry to find himself in the custody of a family like the Blacks or Malfoys. He was sure, if it came to that the Diggory's or Weasley's would find a place for the boy.

With that, he turned his mind to the latest battle in the Wizengamot. The older, pureblood families still refused to give up their darkest artifacts citing history and culture. Perhaps if he got the Department of Magical Law Enforcement onside. 'Mmmm….' The plight of Harry Potter forgotten for the moment.

(BREAK)

A week after his disappearance from number 4 Privet Drive, Harry was still seated comfortably in the ruined top floor of the Potter cottage. The moon shone brightly in the clear night sky shining down on his position on the exposed floor, the smallest of breezes ruffling his hair. The only evidence that he had even moved in the week since he had arrived, were the empty plastic food wrappers and water bottles scattered haphazardly around the floor. A small pile of clothing along with odds and sodds that he had stolen in his journey to the muggle village also filled a corner. The runic arrays surrounding his position had expanded to cover almost the entirety of the second floor of the wrecked Potters Cottage.

The runic arrays glowed green, blue and red with malevolent intensity. The magic sputtering and arcing dangerously to the point of failing or exploding.

Over the course of the week Harry had barely given himself time to scavenge and steal necessities from the muggle village of Godrics Hollow or even to sleep. He was barely aware of the time passing at all. After a week of shoring up his mental defenses and using his magic to manipulate and evolve his mind, he still felt like he was holding on to himself by his fingernails.

His core identity - Who he was, the memories of events that shaped him, the philosophies he had built up over a lifetime along with the principles that drove him. It is what made him Harry Potter and if he allowed himself to forget, or for magic to influence him in unexpected ways, good or ill he would no longer be the Harry Potter he was.

The barely developed, weak and fragile mess of a mind that he had found himself with, he had by now estimated a biological age of about six, was slowly developing. The strong foundations he was building right now would allow him to, perhaps decades from now, recover what he had lost. Along with it, the ability to create, shape and control the most esoteric magics he had become known for as Master of Death.

His magic felt even more wild and uncontrolled than it did when he had first found himself back in cupboard under the stairs. He was losing control. Even with the amount of magic he was pouring into the magical suppression and aversion runic arrays, along with some custom ones he had developed for when he really didn't want to be found. His magic threatened to overwhelm his body and mind. He simply couldn't dump any more.

The amount that he was channeling as it was, was placing incredible strain on his undernourished and under developed body. Far beyond the safe limits he felt comfortable with. If he succeeded, he only hoped that the damage would be reversable with time.

Not that he had much choice, if he lost this fight, he really wasn't going to be Harry Potter any more. There was a large question mark over what would happen. There may even be a new magic creature born from an uncontrolled release of magic, unknowing that it had once been a human child called Harry Potter.

Time was the issue. He simply could not maintain the concentration, the will or his sense of self under such a barrage for the time it would take for his body to grow and mature enough to balance out his magic. Even by enhancing the process, body and mind magic had their own limits. There was also a cost, and a point in which the cost outweighed any benefit. That point was always subjective, but there was a line he would not cross.

Under his current circumstances, his options were few. There was a reason magic usually developed alongside the body's maturity, with the mind acting as the third in the trinity. Each aspect being influenced and influencing the others development. Parts in a complex system. If he were back where he came from, he might have been able to lever heavily on the Potter and Blacks family magics. The families had grown substantially over the generations and he could draw upon that heritage. Allowing him time to bunker down and re-center his core identity by adapting his mind and body – evolving what was. Controlling the evolution.

Instead, here he found himself the last Potter, and the state of the Black family was perilous. He dare not touch upon it too heavily until he explored his current connection to the Black family magics more thoroughly. With the way that the Black's pride themselves on walking the narrow edge of madness, so too would the family magic push him towards madness's edge. What he was doing was madness enough. Better to rely on what he could from the more solid Potter magics.

No, even if he wanted to, his six-year-old body significantly limited his options. That was unless he wanted to significantly damage his magical potential, stunt his growth or corrode his mind. All three were still a possibility at this point.

His mind was the lessor issue, and he had started to make progress on the foundational structures that he would need to retain and comprehend the memories and magics that he had brought back with him.

'Perhaps,' he considered. 'If I were to construct a big enough magical sink, dedicated to rebuilding my mind and strengthening my body as it matured. Building in constraints tied to my core identity I could give myself some time.' It was a core identity that he had spent the last week attempting to imprint on his weak mind. He really had no idea what effect such a sink would have on an already maturing body and mind. Perhaps he had achieved enough – barely.

'Damn, I am hungry again,' Harry grunted as his stomach suddenly felt like a hollow in the middle of his abdomen. He watched as the arrays around him sputtered angrily against the night sky, 'I guess its decision time. No take backsies.'

It wasn't death he feared, he had already resigned himself to that fate. No, he was about to engage in risky magic under a time of great magical stress. Such fluid, unstructured magic where the rules, and consequences were undefined carried great personal risks and were normally conducted with meticulous preparation.

"I am just out of time."

To say that this was risky, with the smallest chance of success, and a much better chance of the entire thing blowing up in his face was an understatement. If successful however, he could buy himself the time he needed to find a more permanent solution. 'Well, decision time. Before I can no longer make one,' he glanced at the arcing and sputtering runic arrays. He didn't think he had pushed them too far, but with his magic so unreliable, unstable, all it would take was the smallest twitch to set it off.

Standing up unsteadily and being careful not to leave the area bounded by runic arrays, Harry reached into the small pile of clothing at the edge of the ruined floor. Withdrawing a small plain copper bracelet and holding it up to the moonlight, he studied it for imperfections. The bracelet had been stolen it on a previous food run, 'I thought I had more time – I guess it will have to do.'

With a grimace of pain, he started focusing his magic on the bracelet, using his figure to outline intricate glyphs. Most were wedge shaped Sumerian cuneiform, with some of the more modern pictographs mixed in. He steadied his hand, twirling the bracelet until it was completely covered by black charcoaled marks. With Sumerian cuneiform there was less chance of unintended consequences. Considering the conditions, back to basics really was best here.

Harry winced again, the grimace of pain was real. His magic was putting great strain on his young body, and the work he was doing to enhance his mind only added to the strain. Trying not to collapse, he concentrated his will on who he was. The life that he had led, the magics that he had performed and the family legacies that he had built. 'Time to throw the dice,' he muttered and clasped the bracelet around his skeletally thin arm.

Immediately he felt a change. His magic, which had for the last weak been a turbulent muddle of chaos, unexpected coils of possibilities and tangles of barely restrained action started to calm and recede. Even as the endless ocean shrank and the swirls and eddies calmed, he maintained his will and concentration.

Once his magic more resembled a calm small puddle than the turbulent ocean it had, only then could he start to relax and sigh with relief. The struggle of holding on to who he was over the last week, had almost led him, fueled by excess magic, to become who he was. Holding back that tide, with the smallest energy left over to anything else. Now that he had had a chance to breath, he was shocked at how close he had come to loosing himself.

After he grabbed some sleep, and something to eat, he could begin to think and plan. The bracelet would – 'wait,' his mind shuttered off track. 'What am I forgetting – something important.' The bracelet seemed to be working, it would at most give him at most two years to find a more permanent solution. Without the struggle required to hold onto himself, he was confident that he would….

The crackling and hissing of his runic arrays interrupted his thoughts again, violently reminding himself of what he was forgetting. 'Oh Shi…'

A combination of perpetual overloading, carving into and maintenance of a material unsuited to holding such large amounts of power, along with a considerable change in ambient magic finally overloaded the arrays on the second floor of Potters cottage. The explosion was spectacular, completely consuming Potters Cottage and the surrounding cemetery.

It would keep the ministry obliviators very busy and attract the attention of the Ministry of Magic. The destruction of such an historic and cultural icon wouldn't go unnoticed or unremarked.


	2. Another way, a better way

**Title:** To Where It All Began

**Author name:** Kung-lou

**Author email:** AU

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Harry had had a good life, a long life. One filled with family and exploring the limits of magic. At the end, he was ready to greet death as his ancestors had, as an old friend. It seems however that magic and death weren't finished with him. Master of Death, Political.

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these characters.

Author notes: AU, OC Updated 11/01/2020

**Chapter 2: Another way, a better way**

"The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind."

-Nietsche

**Year 1986**

Escaping from Godrics Hollow had been a close thing, almost instinctual. 'Old habits and a will to survive, clearly I haven't lost those. Only time and ongoing reflections into my actions now, compared to those of my past life, will show me what I have lost and what I have retained.'

He thought that he had been successful at maintaining his core magical identity through the twin focus of will and concentration. But he knew from extensive experimentation and a lifetime of experience that magic was never that easy, or that black and white. Harry had needed to rely on the ambient Potter magic, at the exclusion of anything else, far more than he had wanted to over the week as he held on to himself. By the time he had eventually enchanting his bracelet, the Potter family magics that had taken generations to build up, had almost been exhausted.

Without the death artifacts and the Black family magics to balance the Potters, he was certain that he had started upon a path not taken. 'Life is a journey,' Harry chuckled. 'It would be far too boring retreading the same one. What we find important to us changes so often over a lifetime.'

One influence of the Potter magics on him was already evident, he felt the strong urge to build and to create. Through re-centering his magic and reinforcing the foundations that would grow and shape his body and mind, he would put down deeper roots that he might have once considered. In doing so, he would contribute far more to the Potter legacy than he had in his last life.

Before he been caught up in the muggle explosion at the edge of the solar system, and subsequently spent a week fighting to retain his sense of self, he was sure that he would have chosen a different way. Likely he would have sought isolation, taking a series of temporary measures such as his enchanted bracelet. Something he would have continued until such measures were no longer required.

Afterward, tracking down the death artifacts and retaking control of the Black family magics would have been a simple measure. Thereby paving a path to undergo much the same body and mind enhancements that he had experienced before.

Here and now, the alternate approach he has settled on felt right for him. 'In magic as with life, it was the principles that you chose and philosophies you lived with, that defined you.' He recited the mantra that continued to guided him.

Harry could certainly live with the urge to build and create, if that was the extent of the costs he had paid, for a new life. 'Perhaps it will even be better this way,' Harry mused. Now, with the enchanting of the bracelet, he had found himself with a grace period to act.

His body was weak and undernourished as it had been. Though his knowledge of magic, better. Nutrition, training and freedom of movement would allow him to work on his aspects over time, far outstripping his progress before.

Access to the overpowering advanced magic his mind remembered using combined with his minds instinctual attempt to use magic far outside his new biological limits tried to smash through his six-year-old self. Magic, temporally constrained through a very fragile, rushed magical sink. Even after he replaced the bracelet, he dare not push his magic beyond what his other aspects allowed, his natural limits must be respected. Anything else would risk unbalancing himself and finding himself back in the dire circumstances he found himself once he arrived.

Hiding his presence was also critical. Until he had stabilized his magical, mental and physical security, he could not risk being found. The level of secrecy needed would also, by necessity, severely restrict the type of magic that he was able to perform. Harry was very aware that Britain was in the midst of a turbulent historical period that had become known as the wars of insurgencies, and his inevitable role in them.

He had no wand or magical artifacts other than those he could create and access to resources or currency was limited to what he could scavenge or steal. Any influence he may have had as a Potter, or as the Boy-Who-Lived, was negated by both his age and the political structure of the current British Wizarding Society.

Despite all of the dire limitations, what he did have, was an understanding of magic unrivaled in the 1990's. 'Without a well-matched wand, this is going to be far harder and take longer.' Having only just survived two potentially lethal accidents, he knew how precarious his situation was, and how precarious his situation would remain for some time.

'Lack of resources, weak, unconnected by necessity. With so few options available to me, my next steps are pretty obvious.' He would be very busy over the next couple of years and could not assume that the copper bracelet would last, potentially failing suddenly and without warning.

After the explosion in Godrics Hollow, he had travelled to the Cambrian mountains in Wales to make his home. It had seemed both natural and logical to stake out a large acreage in the sparsely populated wilderness.

He had spent the first few weeks making sure that he selected a parcel of land that captured natural lakes as well as a portion of Radnor Forest. Harry knew the value of such a large plot of land in the magically rich area.

In the future, the magical resources that his new plot of land would eventually yield, would provide another source of wealth for his family. Families, depending on how the Black inheritance transitioned in this timeline. Further removing his reliance on others was an added bonus.

The Cambrian mountain's remoteness would be particularly useful when conducting highly sensitive and dangerous magical research. 'Perhaps I was tempting fate by being so close to Muggle research facility after all.'

Being so sparsely populated ensured that it would be easier to ward away muggles, and as he conducted more magic over time in the area, they would forget the landholding's existence completely. Laying sets of ward stones and infusing an area with magic was something he could do now, even without a well-matched wand. Later, as he grew stronger and eventually gained a wand, he would continue to build and strengthen the magics that protected his new home.

His only worry, and potential obstacle to his plans, was the Ministry of Magic interfering with his illegal acquisition of muggle land. He doubted whether they actually cared about the occasional muggle farmer, but they would care and want their share of taxes.

'Luckily for me, the next decadal magical census will be in the in the mid-nineties.' That regular scheduling hadn't changed for a millennium and would allow him to effectively avoid detection until then.

Unless someone was specifically looking.

'No,' he considered that unlikely. 'No one would be looking for a random wizard carving off additional land from the muggles in west Wales.' Not unless he was extremely unlucky. Adding unplottability to his new landholding would make ownership and attribution ambiguous, even if he were detected before he was ready. With any luck he would be able to claim his Potter accounts by then, perhaps even access the Black vaults, making everything legal.

The more difficult task in the near term would be the sourcing of construction material and labor. Material and labor he would need for the construction of buildings to support both magic and shelter. While some of the work he would do himself, building up his strength though physical labor, most of what he planned was just impossible without access to more magic, a wand or simply outsourcing the work.

If time became an issue due to the unexpected degradation of his magical sink, he would compromise on a temporary shelter and make do. What he could not afford to compromise on, were the buildings that would support non-wand based magics. Without a wand, and with his other limitations, he would need to rely on more subtle, ritualistic magic. Nothing else would allow the level of magic required to permanently replace his bracelet.

When using non-wand based magic, few things beat a druidic circle. In his case, one carefully aligned with the Yule solstice solar cycles. 'A ritual specific for rebirth would be best,' Harry nodded to himself. Already surveying the undulating green hills and lakes that made up his new landholding for a likely spot.

'Limestone slabs from the Isle or Portland would be ideal for that purpose,' Harry already imagined what it would look like. Eight-meter high, fine white stone slabs, standing vertically around the circumference of a nine-meter circle. Capped with yet more Portland Limestone slabs. In the middle of his circle, an alter and temple paying homage to magic and family. It would, he decided, stand tall on the grassy hill overlooking the small rich blue lake below.

He would eventually construct a large wizarding tower, in matching stone beside it. Standing witness to history, towering over his land. A grand statement of optimism and renewal.

Harry was familiar enough with the muggle world that he thought he might know of a place to start. Muggles had no resistance to magic at all and while he might look like a six-year-old, he was not. Subtleness was the key, not only due to the statute of secrecy, but there were a number of magical families that conducted business in the Muggle world. They would immediately detect obvious magical manipulation, he risked more than capture if he tried to move too quickly or overtly. His memories of the muggle world in the nineteen eighties and nineties were hazy at best, requiring that he would need to be even more careful.

Harry felt only the tiniest of guilt over the embezzling he was about to embark on, but the guilt was quickly squashed. It was a decision that he would make again - every time.

(BREAK)

**Year 1988**

The gleaming statue of a young couple holding a child stood tall in the center of the Ministry of Magic war memorial, Godrics Hollow. The male was lanky, wearing oversized glasses framed by messy over grown tresses. His partner, lithe in figure with a saucy look, was immortalized beside him with hair disappearing down her back.

The baby, well it was a baby. 'A relatively tasteful statue really,' Albus considered. 'As far as statues went.'

Anyone who had known the couple whom the statues represented however, would also have known, that they would have been horrified at the thought of being immortalized in such a way. Certainly, they would have been uncomfortable at their place in the middle of a memorial that proudly announced the Ministry of Magic's victory and the conclusion of years of terror and blood. Years of terror and blood which had marked the pureblood war, a conflict that had only paused at Voldemort's vanquishing.

Albus however could appreciate the value of good propaganda, which is what the memorial represented. A heroic and impossible victory, a complete reversal of fortunes for the dark lord and his death eaters, and an end to a terrible period in their collective history. The ministry gained much through its association.

Today, the better part of a decade on, people could still remember not knowing who they could trust, whether their families would be home after a day's work, or even if their own actions and thoughts were being overwritten by someone else's will.

Dark magic was abused, people's individual will and memories were completely suppressed, altered or overwritten. People had lived with the awful fear of not knowing who was next or who to trust, distrust permeated the community. Whole families had been decimated or wiped out in the conflict, irreplaceable knowledge and heritage lost.

The Ministry of Magic had stood helpless. 'A little of propaganda is warranted,' Albus mused.

His own order of soldiers had suffered tremendous losses and they, along with the Ministry, had been losing against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Harry Potter arrived as if magic itself had delivered him. 'With the prophecy,' Albus thought visualizing its words and the circumstances of its delivery, 'perhaps it had.' He had spent a fair amount of time speculating and analyzing possible meanings and implications ever since he had heard the prophecy first given.

The unexpected victory had shifted his focus and given him hope that he would achieve that which he had worked so hard for. 'Peace and the supremacy of light magic.' Through his role leading the Order of the Phoenix, and his involvement in an earlier war, he knew well what to place the blame on for the terrible years of war. The Dark aligned families and their addiction to dark magic. It was a battle that continued economically and politically to this day.

Harry's victory against Voldemort had delivered him enormous momentum for his positive agenda, marking significant progress in the reforms he sponsored. The last Potter's disappearance had begun shifting that momentum back again, in spite of the knowledge of his disappearance being carefully hidden.

All hope of finding the boy had quickly dwindled and diminished. The explosion at the site of the Boy-Who-Lived's victory over Voldemort and the complete destruction of the Potter Cottage could not have been a coincident. Yet, it frustrated him that he could find no link between the two. Harry's disappearance and the cascading runic failure which caused the explosion.

The Ministry had been crawling over the site ever since, first to investigate and then to build the monument that stood before him. So soon after the war, people had been in a panic over the re-escalation of violence. Questions and rumors had raced through their small community, ratcheting up the sense of unease and fear to levels not felt since the end of the war.

Was the conflict going to reignite? Had Voldemort returned or was one of his lieutenants taking over?

No one knew. It was still largely, a mystery. With knowledge of Harry's disappearance, he had feared the worst.

In an attempt to placate people's fears, the ministry had created this memorial. Celebrating strength and victory over impossible odds. 'It is a clever move,' Albus acknowledged. 'I don't know that it will help keep Millicent in power though. Too many bad memories, too may compromises,' he expected that she would retire rather than loose an election. He might even try to stand one of his own as replacement.

'Something to consider,' Albus mused. 'Perhaps their little world was ready for a half blood Minister or even a muggleborn one.'

The witches and wizards of the British wizarding community had mostly resumed their lives, after two years of no further attacks, their fear had diminished. The memorial had achieved its goal, there was a feeling that the Ministry was in control among the general population. Visiting today, on the anniversary of Harry's disappearance, he could see signs of love and support, flowers, transfigured and animated toys lining the memorial floor. As far as most of the populous knew, Harry Potter was off training, fighting dragons, having adventures and being an international hero.

Few knew the truth. That Albus Dumbledore had lost him.

The echoing sound of a peg leg on stone interrupted his train of thoughts. Albus turned around to greet an old friend, and former member of his order. "Alastor, how are those trainees treating you."

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, famous auror, suspiciously looked around with his magical eye twirling. "Albus," he greeted. "You couldn't have found a more inconspicuous space?"

Albus waved one hand in a calming way, still stroking his long white beard with the other. "Who would suspect anything of two old friends catching up and mourning the death of old comrades. Merely reminiscing of older and better times."

"Argg," Alastor looked like he wanted to spit in disgust, but looking around at the memorial he thought better off it. "Got some promising ones coming through I suppose, they might yet learn one end of their wand from the other."

"Have you had any luck with your blood wards?" Albus had shared the knowledge of Harry's disappearance with the old auror on the chance that the Ministry had somehow been behind Harrys disappearance.

It hadn't been the case.

Albus had to restrain the grimace that threatened to break out across his face, "No. While I have managed to prevent them from completely collapsing, I haven't been able to use the blood-based entanglement to locate Harry. Best I have been able to determine is that he is alive and healthy. The wards would have collapsed despite my best efforts if he had not been."

"Bit of bad luck there." Alastor grunted in such a way that suggested that if Albus had had no luck, few others would have.

"Ministry investigation has hit a wall too." Alastor waved his hand over the site of the old Potter Cottage.

"We confirmed that the cause was too many unsafe, unshielded and conflicting runic arrays' that over loaded. By whom and for what purpose?" The auror shrugged. "The only thing we have been able to determine definitively was that it was deliberate. Chatter from our contacts was that it wasn't related to the pureblood agenda at all."

"Who else would target the Potters? Particularly this site?"

Albus could only sigh in disappointment, 'another waste of time.' At least if it had represented an escalation by someone in the Wizengamot, he may have been able to use the event for something positive. Particularly if it had been someone who belonged to the political block that continued to frustrate him in the Wizengamot. As it stood, Harry Potter was still missing and the Ministry of Magic had had two years successfully papering over their complete incompetence in the last war.

Worse, the Ministry had been able to use the current political deadlock that existed between his allies and the factional block, currently headed by the Nott family, to successfully wedge him and ram through laws. The new regulations targeting werewolves and further isolating themselves from the Muggle world would only serve to further consolidate the Ministry's power, taking their world backward.

"No one I know would have done this, and the scale and power of the explosion limits who was capable." Two years and only a confirmation of what he already anticipated. 'Really,' he thought with schadenfreude 'what else had he expected, relying on the Ministry'.

"I'm not aware of any new players, though I heard that there was something happening on the Isle of Portland?" Albus expected the casual probe to come of nothing, it was merely a whisper of a rumor that Severus had picked up.

"Ah, that was nothing." Alastor smirked "Some muggle big shot over extended himself in the construction of his manor. Local government repossessed his assets and he fled the country. The authorities have been liquidated his assets ever since. Last I heard they were turning his half-constructed palace into recycled rubble."

"The only reason we got involved was the Ministry's regulation over the sale of the stone for magical construction and the taxation of the proceeds. The Parkinson's and Yaxley's would scream bloody murder if anything interfered with their precious monopoly."

Albus could well understand that. There was an unstable balance between the powers of magical families and the powers of the ministry which held the ability to set laws and collect taxes. The last time that balance had radically altered was in a time of great strife between the Wizarding world and the Muggle one. Strife which had led to the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy and the requirement for an increasingly structured, organized and complex government structure. That move had, rather unexpectedly, steadily moved power from family structures to that of the Minister and his administration.

It was a shift in power still happening today, accelerated by the recent magical conflicts and the increasing numbers of muggle born and half-bloods. A trend that he was using to usher in his vision of a more egalitarian magical society for everyone. Those who lacked the magical heritage and power of the older families would have an equal seat at the table.

"There has been no movement in the Potter accounts either," he announced. Since James Potters death he had held the key to the Potter vaults. The goblins may have full control of wizard's money, but the antagonism between the two magical species ensured that the letter of the treaty was upheld rather than its spirit. That gave him great latitude over the Potter Family assets. Only the Potter family magic truly limited his control over Harry and the Potter legacy.

"Likewise, with the Blacks," Alastor added. "Arcturus, Pollux and Cassiopeia have gone to ground. Seems they think we can all burn. Can't really blame them after the effect the last two wars have had on their family. Still, we are keeping an eye out, the Blacks still hold enormous influence and wealth."

"Without the Black money and influence, the Malfoys have taken over the job of fundraising for the darker family block." Albus shared. "Enough that they have managed to stymy most of my attempts at cracking down on the darker influences that led young Tom Riddle into becoming such a problem."

"Malfoy," Alastor snarled in disgust. "I cannot believe he got away with claimed the imperius defense."

"Half the ministry was caught up in the same," he reminded the old auror gently. "Without more support we couldn't have done any more."

"The Higgs family have been convinced by our arguments, with the current deadlock in the Wizengamot every additional vote is helpful." Alastor didn't keep track of, or run the numbers like Albus. He did know that, if either Albus or the political block representing the darker families and traditionalists wanted to pass or repeal any laws, they needed the neutrals on side. No single faction had the numbers themselves.

It made every victory hard fought, with quite a bit of backsliding, and the occasional bribe.

"I'll leave you to your politics Albus, I know dark wizards when I see them," Alastor paused as if he had called down dark wizards by naming them. His eye swirled with a maniacal gleam, searching for potential enemy action. "When I see them, all I need is my wand and my skill with magic."

Albus nodded as if in agreement, but he knew better. Even as powerful as he was, he couldn't just go out and cull all of the dark wizards or those who disagreed with him. That was the path Tom Riddle had taken, trying to rule through terror and fear. Introducing new symbols and culling those deemed unworthy for their society. The damage it had wrecked was all around them.

No, there was a reason that he had maneuvered himself to the positions he had. It was slower, but more likely to yield permanent results. There was a magic in guiding entire populations, and shaping the minds of new generations of wizards and witches. It was a magic that Gellert had never understood. Every year, more of dark magics were lost, and incompetent as the Ministry was, the tide of history was on his side.

He would do everything he could to ensure Harry Potter succeeded, and then he would be there to continue containing the darker impulse of society.

If only he could find the boy. 'Where are you hiding Harry Potter?'

(BREAK)

The last two years had been busy ones for Harry. Busy and productive. Concentrating on his mind magics, and working on his body, had allowed him to safely access and use roughly fifteen percent more of the esoteric magic than his body had been able to cope with on his arrival to the cupboard under the stairs. His internal magics were continuing to mature as expected, allowing him greater access to the simpler magics.

While he acknowledged that it was only a fractional increase compared to what he had been able to do before his first death, that was a poor measure. Here, he was biologically only eight years old. Unless he wanted to radically alter his path, biology and magical maturity placed limits. He would, with the knowledge he had, continue to push and develop his aspects far more efficiently than the stumbling and fumbling of his previous life.

He had lived to over two hundred in his first life, he would enjoy the journey of his second without prematurely rushing it. 'I am not prepared to pay the costs, that the universe would ask of me, to maintain a semblance of balance. Not when there is another way, slower but safer.' 'Life is a mystery to be explored and unpacked,' he thought. 'It should be puzzled over and enjoyed, not run as a race to be won.' Another mantra he had begun to believe.

The physical and magically intensive activity he had labored on over the years, along with his understanding of the trinity aspects of his core, had transformed his body. Now he stood not a scrawny, under nourished six-year-old but an eight-year-old with the appearance more akin to a fit and active eleven-year-old.

Alongside, he had continued to shape his mind.

Though productive, the last couple of years had not been without issue. Finding out that the old magical families of Parkinson's and Yaxley's had held an economic interest in the quarry of Portland had been an unwelcome surprise.

Once he had left Hogwarts in his old life, he had never had to concern himself with economic details like that. Between the Potter and Black family vaults, he had been wealthy enough to leave the details to others. 'House elves for purchasing and servants to maintain the house accounts, the exploration and research into magic was always more important and interesting.' Harry smiled in joy as he had recalled leaving the hard rules-based magic behind and leaping into something more.

His mind shuddered, avoiding those half-remembered instances where he had barely avoided the consequences of treading too fast, emmeshing himself too deeply, into the unknown.

"The eyes. The eyes," Harry jolted his thoughts back on track.

With his need to remain undetected, it had been an unpleasant surprise to find magical involvement in the Isle of Portland. Previously, he had thought only to avoid the notice of the Ministry, along with any hint of breaking the statute of secrecy. Afterward, his plans had needed to avoid wealthy pureblood families who held financial interests in auditing their business accounts.

In the end, it hadn't really required that much magic and circumstances had unfolded rather neatly. Muggles, witches, wizards it didn't matter, there was corruption to be exploited everywhere. Recognizing the opportunity and nudging the behavior of muggles required far less effort than those with magic.

In the end, he had got his stone, and the labor and equipment needed to build his druidic circle. With some left over for his ramshackle hut for shelter. He just had to manage the enchantments and warding. 'Oh,' he thought with muted amusement, 'and ensuring that none of the muggles got eaten.'

His landholding continued to soak up his magic while he worked, creating a strong pull to those creatures and plants sensitive to such ambient magics. Almost all of his time had been spent working on his physical and mental aspects, laying down ward stones, engraving and enchanting great slabs of Portland limestone. The muggles had taken care of installing them, building his druidic circle according to his design. Orientating it to his specifications, against the horizon. As magic increasingly infused his land, magical plants and animals started to immigrate, turning his home into a true magical wilderness.

Even the lake below the druidic circle now contained grindylow, somehow making their way into a new habitat in eastern Wales.

Which had been very useful in finalizing his preparations to rid himself of the enchanted magical sink. The copper bracelet which he had inscribed, as a temporary fix and a rushed job was failing. Even now, the green coating and pitting across the copper threatened to destroy the integrity of his enchantments. He would not allow himself to bounce from one adhoc solution to another when a permanent solution was within his grasp.

If his calculations were right, the ritual that he was undergoing would reinforce his aspects natural limits. Preventing him from instinctually using magic exceeding that which his body could sustain or accessing magic overwhelming his minds ability to comprehend. Using magic under those circumstances threatened to unbalance his core. He would bind the magic that, without his magical sink, continued to swirl around him in an uncontrolled and unpredictable torrent. Binding it to supporting and accelerating the growth and natural maturation of his aspects. The bind would, by design, gradually decay with time.

As he further developed his mind and body, the bind would support and bolster those efforts, decreasing the need for the bound magic to be redirected. Enabling him to wield ever greater and richer magics, both from his growing internal core and through accessing the more esoteric magics governed by softer rules and harder consequences. Long into the future, once his mind and body had caught up to his maturity from the future, the binding would fall apart no longer needed.

A simple solution to a complex problem.

'The cost,' he acknowledged to himself. 'With this type of magic there always a cost to weigh up.' The cost in this case, was that he would need to maintain the same disciplined and focused approach to his core philosophies and principles that marked his previous centuries of life.

Any change, evolution and adaption to his new reality would be amplified by his magic. As was the coupled and entangled nature of the trinity aspects, changes to his body and mind would also be amplified. That amplification risked him engineering the very outcome which he had spent the last two years trying to avoid.

He was confident in his core identity, with a lifetime of practice and discipline to fall back upon.

Over the time since he had carved out his landholding, he had marked the footprint of a large tower and built a very temporary shambolic hut. Knowing that he would tear it down, it was minimalistic and at the margins of comforts for a shelter in Wales. Most of his focus had been on the construction of his druidic circle. Its design had been carefully customized perfectly for the Yule ritual. A ritual that was fundamental to the magics he knew he would need to perform.

Without a wand, he was making full use of the older druidic influences. Particularly those of seasons, sacrifice and rebirth. 'Using magic plants and animals attracted to my home, through the use of my own magic, would provide a stablishing effect to the ritual.' He allowed the thought to idly brush his mind as the cool English breeze brushed against his bare skin.

Today would be the final day of approximately two years of planning. Culminating the final night of a six-day Yule ritual. One he had adapted for his purpose.

As he had for the last five nights, he found himself in the center of his druidic circle, naked but for the copper bracelet cool against his skin. Dead on the alter, a grindylow he had harvested from his lake and sacrificed. Its magical nature playing an important role.

Using a stylus constructed from a magical vine, sourced from the edge of Radnor Forest and build with his own hands, he used the dead grindylow's blood for ink to mark his body. Taking care, he drew the concentric wedge-shaped patterns reminiscent of Sumerian cuneiform, interspersed by runic arrays of his own design down his limbs and across his body. The moonlight reflected from the stone slabs of the druidic circle, bonfires on the surrounding hills provided him sufficient light to see. Yule was a time for change, a celebration of rebirth.

White limestone slabs towed around him in witness. The gindylow blood, catching the wind felt slick on his skin, shimmering and reflecting the firelight. As he had before, he would wait for midnight, the beginning of the new day.

Then, the time was upon him. The sixth and last night of his celebration of self, of magic. He concentrated on his magics, calming and embracing it. He let it dance with the ambience of nature that surrounded him, moonlight grounding him. The will that drove him captured his core identity - Who he was, the memories of events that shaped him, the philosophies he had built up over a lifetime along with the principles that drove him.

He would be reborn, Harry Potter still, but not who he was. Time and this reality would determine that.

His copper bracelet cracked further, green tarnish growing visibly over the metal surface. Finally, it shattered and he felt renewed. His magic brand new, his body strong and his mind focused.

The ritual was finished.

All traces of the grindylow had vanished, upon his body and upon the alter, as it had the previous nights. Sacrifice accepted.

His life was now his own once more, the sense of doom and restlessness that had overshadowed his actions had disappeared. Like a decision made, a price paid.

The question he had now was, what had changed? With a chance to restart, who would he become?

Still with the same limitations as before. No wand or magical artifacts other than those he could create. His access to resources or currency was still limited to what he could scavenge or steal. The trick he had pulled off to build his druidic circle would be noticed if he continued to use it. The ploy's usefulness had largely been expended.

Any influence he may have had as a Potter or as the Boy-Who-Lived was negated by both his age and the political structure of the current British Wizarding Society. Perhaps however that was changing. An unexpected approach needed.

His explosive exit from Godrics Hollow and the current deadlock in the Wizengamot may present a narrow window to exploit. Divisions which existed in the historical pause between violent conflicts in this period were high, alliances fragile.

Since he no longer had decades of indoctrination and magical potential limitations to overcome, perhaps he was in a place and time where he could do something about the indoctrination and rules-based approach of the modern wand using community. Rather than regretting the state of their community at the end of his lifetime, hoping that someone from his family would take up the mantle of his Legacy.

He would have to escape the notice of the two powerhouses of the time, Voldemort and Dumbledore, until he was better prepared. 'Beyond the obvious fact that I am Harry Potter. But after all,' he chuckled with delight, 'I am only eight years old. What mischief could I possibly manage.'

(BREAK)

Daphne grinned with youthful delight as she rode her miniature abraxan, a gift from the Malfoys on her eighth birthday. She had been thrilled when, as a birthday gift, the Malfoys had gifted her the miniature abraxan. 'I knew straight away what I would call her,' Daphne remembered the day fondly. 'Acionna, after the river goddess, powerful and with a prayer that she might run forever.' Names had power, she had learned and so far, Acionna had been everything she had dreamed.

As the young daughter of an old pureblood family, she had been learning to ride since before she could walk. Now that she was nine, it had been deemed safe, and acceptable, to ride on her family's estate unsupervised.

An opportunity she had taken at every opportunity. Laughter filled the air, blond hair streaming behind her as she trotted, cantered and only occasionally walked to rest the winged beast.

Today, of all days she needed it.

As was custom, early morning to noon was dedicated to lessons in the family library with their tutor. Reading, writing and numbers came easily to her and she enjoyed them. Family history that captured their family traditions, and provided cautionary tales of magic gone awry, fascinated her. What young girl wouldn't enjoy hearing the heroic stories of her ancestors defeating dragons for treasure, outsmarting goblins and discovering new magics.

Her family was so awesome, 'smug Draco and dour Theo could boast all they wanted to. But the Greengrass's were the best.' She knew that the family trees of all pureblood families intertwined throughout history, but she doubted that the Malfoys or Notts had nearly as many cool stories of their ancestors.

Certainly, she had not heard any in their arranged playdates. Nor from the young daughters of Parkinson or Bulstrode.

Exhilarated by the powerful muscles of the winged abraxan, she pushed out further from the manor than she had before. What had her fleeing to the pure, delightful escapism of riding her Acionna across the Greengrass grounds, was the troubling nature of todays lessons.

Lately, her lessons had strayed from letters and numbers, to giving orders to servants and the running of households. Where before lessons on the Greengrass family heritage were full of fantastical tales, now they had started to cover more recent histories and events and their role in magical society. As the oldest daughter in her family, with no brothers, she had expected the day would come where she would be prepared for her future role in society.

One day she would marry and become the lady Greengrass, with all the expectations and responsibilities of that position. If her parents gave her a brother, she would become the lady of another equally powerful, pureblood house. It was why she didn't shirk her lessons, she understood what was expected of her, and the importance of it. She was determined to do her family proud.

Equally, it was why she was out on Acionna reconciling her thoughts and emotions. Away from the manor and the lessons within the dusty, centuries old library.

Riding allowed her to get away and think, to sort out her feelings and deal with her confusion. Todays lessons had brought up a number of uneasy questions. 'Better order my thoughts before I shame my instructors by peppering them with confused, incoherent questions.'

Today, they had covered the rise and fall of the dark lord and what was known about Harry Potter. Beyond the collection of books hidden under her bed that was – a guilty pleasure.

"Oh, I know they tried to cover the decade of conflict, in an age appropriate way, but now they have me confused and curious." Daphne just muttered to herself. Slowing Acionna from a canter to a walk as the winged animal heaved and sweated with exhaustion.

If the dark lord had been trying to help the older families retain their family heritage from Ministry of Magic over reach, why was such a violent conflict needed? Why had the ancient house of Syltherin been dormant for so long? How active had the Greengrass family been in the conflict? What role had Albus Dumbledore played and what exactly had happened that night between the Potters and the dark lord?

Even the heroic stories covering Harry Potters life had barely mentioned the night he had defeated the dark lord. Instead focusing on his adventures. She could not help comparing him to her more roguish ancestors. Battling dragons, rescuing damsels and hunting down vampires. 'I bet he doesn't have to worry about confused lessons and boring chaperones,' Daphne thought in a moment of pique.

"What," Daphne slowed and then stopped Acionna in confusion. In front of her was a young boy, digging up her lawn with a stick.

"Hey stop, this is Greengrass land." she commanded. Channeling her mother, as much as her eight-year-old self could from astride a miniature winged horse, she yelled again. "What are you doing?"

The boy looked ten or elven and she wondered who he was and what he was doing. Dark hair hung messily to his shoulders and almost obscured his eyes. His green eyes, set behind thick, black, muggle like glasses. He also continued to ignore her, scratching on now bear dirt where there had once been manicured lawn.

"I said stop," coming closer, she was positive that she had never seen the boy before. Never in any of her play dates or introductions to society. With the rags that he wore, she almost believed he was a mad muggle. Before discounting the theory, 'There is no way one of those could get onto the grounds,' she scoffed at the thought. 'Father and Mother would never allow it.'

Continuing to ignore her and damage her family's property was intolerable however, he would stop. 'Even if she had to ride the boy over.'

"You will stop little boy," she commanded again. So singularly focused on the strange boy, she hardly felt the tingle warning her that she traveled beyond the boundary of her estate and family wards. Unaware of the alerts that were sounding.

Now closer, the boy looked up from his scratching in the dirt, almost as if surprised at her appearance. "Boy, what are doing on the Greengrass family estates. Who are you," she towered over him from astride her mount.

"Ahhh, Greengrass. I never expected. So close." Daphne frowned at his muttering, 'did he know her father? Who was he?'

"My lady," he greeted smoothly, dropping the stick and approaching her mount. "My name is Harry and it appears that I am a neighbor of yours." Taking hold of her hand, he brushed his lips over her knuckles.

'No-one had ever mentioned any magical neighbors," she puzzled, recalling her lessons. Daphne found herself becoming nervous and uncertain. The family histories were full of stories about little children than wondered off, only to be stolen by magical creatures or tricky fairies. She was very conscious suddenly of her lack of chaperone.

The clothing alone marked him as someone far below her social standing. Who knew what such a ruffian may do.

"Harry who?" Daphne asked, sure she had hidden the slight quiver that tempted to escape. "Are you a pureblood." After todays lessons, the question seemed almost automatic.

"Why Harry Potter of course," the boy announced with a flourish. Her eyes automatically went to his forehead, his hair grown over any scar that may have been present. "What may your name be lovely lady?"

Daphne went from nervous to annoyed in a heartbeat. The boy had to be lying to her. Harry Potter was only her age, and off fighting monsters and having adventures or being trained in magic by all of the great masters. He was a certainly not some poorly dressed little boy, of ten or eleven, scratching in the dirt on the Greengrass estate.

She looked at his attire in pity.

"You have the privilege,' she announced channeling her mother again and taking care not to overlook any of the etiquette of a superior greeting one beneath her. "Of greeting Daphne Greengrass, heiress of the noble and pure blood Greengrass family. Main branch."

"I am sure if you are who you say you are you can prove it. You can then explain what you are doing digging up the Greengrass estate with a stick." She looked down at him, still in no hurry to dismount. 'Once he embarrasses himself, I will order him off of our grounds, forthwith.'

'Father will have to strengthen the wards if they had allowed such rabble to stumble across the Greengrass estate.'

"Why of course little princess," Daphne winced at the improper address, and the obvious gibe at her position. Though she supposed that if there were magical royalty, the sacred twenty-eight families would surely count.

Gasping in surprised amazement, she watched as he parted his fringe, revealing a large scar. 'What an earth his Harry Potter doing here?' Conflicted with an exited, 'I am talking to Harry Potter.'

"What was I doing out here?" he gestured at the scratching at his feet. "I was trying to determine who owned these lands. Having moved into the area, I was curious. I didn't expect to be detected on this side of the warding's."

Daphne gasped again, this time in horror. She had gone beyond her family's protective warding's. 'Oh, father is going to kill me.' She could already imagine the scolding she would receive once she returned or they were forced to look for her.

Looking down at the boy before her, she reassured herself. 'Surely I am safe from danger with Harry Potter.'

But the mystery still tugged at her, 'What is happening that Harry Potter would move into land so close to their estate? Are we in danger? Is there a threat we are unaware off?' Publications of Harry Potter's adventures were famous amongst their community.

"Now that that mystery is solved, I am going to head back." Harry sighed, almost sad at the challenge solved too easily.

Gathering her courage. Daphne managed to stammer, "Harry, if you are to be my new neighbor, perhaps I can visit."

'To my knowledge, no one else will be able to boast of an adventure with the Harry Potter.' Her excitement replacing her earlier caution of being outside the estate wards without a chaperone.

"Sure," Harry once again looked surprised, "keep it a secret will you. Can't be hounded by all my fans you know." He smiled sardonically, "see those trees." He pointed toward two old oak trees a short walk from where they were standing. At some point in the past they had sprouted closely together, their foliage merging, appearing from a distance as one giant tree. "A short walk, or ride," he offered her his hand to dismount.

After some consideration she took his hand and dismounted. Choosing to walk beside him, leading Acionna alongside. 'She could use a rest after such a workout,' Daphne considered. Never having taken her mount out so far away from the manor before.

"So, what has you out so far from home,' Harry asked.

"We have been taking lessons on the Dark lords rise and the subsequent conflict. I was thinking through the questions I had." Daphne couldn't believe the surreality of discussing lessons with Harry Potter. Surely, he was far more advanced than she was, and had more important things to do.

"Nasty bit of business that," Harry nodded to her in understanding. "So much fear, death and the destruction of irreplaceable knowledge. Centuries old families were completely wiped out."

"I would be interested in what your tutors have to say but the conflict seemed inevitable. Your dark lord just provided the rallying cry. His magical strength was undenied."

"And he damage he did to the magical community far outweighed any benefits he tried to bring," Harry muttered. Daphne wasn't sure if she was supposed to hear that. Filing it away for future consideration.

Harry was silent for a moment as if gathering his thoughts, "Wizarding Britain and the magical families have always built their identity and culture around their history. Your ancestors brought wealth and knowledge into your line and you and future generations will continue to do the same. The family magic evolving and adapting throughout history and influencing its members in turn."

At the thought of future generations, Daphne had a momentary thought of the romantic nature of their setting and blushed. Harry merely smiled at her as if he could read her thoughts, deepening her blush.

"With the Statute of Secrecy, the wizarding council was replaced with the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot as a governance body. This had the effect of, over time, transferring much of the sovereignty and power of the much older and powerful pureblood Families to the ministry. The Ministry passed laws, and taxed where previously only Families held dominion."

Daphne was entranced, none of that had been explained at all by her tutor, he had focused much more on the worthiness of the dark lords cause and the opposition provided by blood traitors and muggleborn. Perhaps he had yet to cover this material.

"The aftermath of the global wizarding war involving Gellert Grindelwald and his acolytes accelerated this trend further due to the devastation it caused to those older, more powerful, Wizarding families on both sides of the conflict. Albus Dumbledore used the outcry against the actions of Gellert and his destruction, into a movement against dark magic, an action he continues to push with rigor."

Harry stopped, having just reached the twin oaks. "Included under his definition of dark magic are swathes of the heritage, history and remaining power of the older families. With the Ministry further eroding their economic power and influence, well, as I said, the conflict was inevitable. Your dark lord merely provided the spark, and the power to make his will known." With that he stepped between the oaks and vanished.

Daphne, captured by his narrative quickly followed, still leading Acionna. "That was amazing," she started. It had answered most of her questions and just led to a whole lot more.

"That was amazing," she repeated, thoughts back on track to Harry's explanation of the context surrounding the last wizarding war. "How did you learn all that?" Daphne would definitely be able to impress her tutor with that explanation, and the questions it spawned. The raise of the dark lord, and the decade old conflict, was far easier to understand when she had the context and motivations of the key players to pin her understanding to.

Her thoughts were derailed by the view, as she had stepped through the portal between the oak trees, and in to Harry's home. The green undulating hills and lakes were amazing and she could see the most glorious druid's circle just below where she stepped through the oaks.

"Ahh that," Daphne had not known she had commented.

"While it took a while to build, the magic it allows me to use and orchestrate makes it very valuable. For some magic, it is even better than having a wand." Harry stared down at the stone druids circle with pride.

"Wow," she just stood there, soaking up the ambiance. What looked like the start of an estate was pegged out below on an undulating hill next to the druid's circle. Where she stood, she could see a run-down stone shack with a thatched roof standing further down the valley. Looking back, she could see her family's estate though a hazy film. 'It must be some kind of magical transport,' she thought to herself.

"What do you mean, better than having a wand?" She asked in confusion and also a great deal of interest. "I cannot wait until I have a wand, so I can start learning and practicing magic."

"Don't be so eager little princess," Harry rejoined. "Improper training in wand magic, and overlooking the other aspects will seriously limit your magical potential and the magic that you will be able to cast."

"Wand magic is easy, very rules based and dependent on the growing capacity all witches and wizards are born with, plus or minus. Oh, you will have to learn it like any other skill, and you will grow in power quickly as you mature. Over your long life though, you will be equally disappointed by your limitations."

"You will find yourself asking yourself, surely magic can do more, be capable of more. Your thoughts would always be going to those cautionary tales of wizards who summoned demons, messed with time and explored death. How is any of that possible with such rigid rules, and limited to the core that we were born with." Daphne could see Harry's excitement and enthusiasm in explaining the nature of magic to her.

"The answer is to train your other aspects in line with your magic, allowing your body and mind to evolve and become familiar with greater possibilities, greater understandings. Influencing the development of your magic and building upon you core identity. You will understand magic at a deeper level than most witches and wizards, a difference as large as those that separates us from muggles."

"Your own family made some significant breakthroughs in the mental aspects, two or three generations ago. Were you aware?"

Daphne just shook her head dumbly. She had always thought that she would get her wand, train at Hogwarts like most of her family and that would be it. She had not even considered there might be another way, a better way. Certainly no one had mentioned aspects. She stared at the druidic circle in amazement, wanting to know more. Hungering to know more.

If it allowed her to start learning and practicing magic earlier than Hogwarts allowed, she would jump at the chance.

"I would invite you down for tea, but I am afraid it took quite a bit longer than I had anticipated to get here. I would not wish to antagonize your family further." Harry announced.

"I would be happy to continue corresponding with you further on the topic if you would like." Daphne almost jumped at the thought, her corresponding with the Harry Potter. She tried to contain her reaction though, mentally reciting her etiquette lessons.

"That would be great, thank you Harry."

With that, all of her fears about her father's reaction to her leaving the estates wards flooded back. 'After fathers finishes with me,' she thought miserable "mother will surely kill me.'

Only the thought of boasting of her afternoon with Harry Potter, and her knew understanding of magic, kept her from bursting into tears in worry as Harry helped her remount. Once through the portal, she kicked the abraxan into a gallop, waving in farewell.

She would definitely be writing to Harry. 'I may be grounded until I get to Hogwarts, but I am definitely going to write. I have so much to learn,' now even more interested in her family heritage and their place in wizarding society.

On her return to the Greengrass estate, amongst the uproar over her disappearance, she didn't even realize that all knowledge of to get to Harry's location had disappeared from her mind.


	3. Leaving childish things behind

**Title:** To Where It All Began

**Author name:** Kung-lou

**Author email:** AU

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Harry had had a good life, a long life. One filled with family and exploring the limits of magic. At the end, he was ready to greet death as his ancestors had, as an old friend. It seems however that magic and death weren't finished with him. Master of Death, Political.

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these characters.

Author notes: AU, OC Updated 19/01/2020

**Chapter 3: Leaving childish things behind**

"The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane."

\- Marcus Aurelius

**Year 1988**

"Hi Tom," Susan waved cheerfully at the barkeep of the Leaky Cauldron. The small and dingy inn, dating back to the fifteen hundred's marked number one Diagon Alley. Its public floo provided secure public access for those connected to the magic transport network, proving cheap and safe travel between magical locations.

Despite its size and age, Susan thought it felt homely, welcoming. Tom certainly did his best to make it so for his regulars.

Safety in Diagon Alley wasn't just important to her due to her age, though of course at just under nine years old and travelling alone, she was conscious of that. No, like most of her generation, she had been reared on stories of the last war. People going missing after travelling to the store, or returning home from work only to murder their own families, imprisoned by the magical will and control of another. The fear of not knowing who to trust and who might cast the darkest magic on you.

With the murder of her uncle and his entire family, those fears were close to home. Still, as anxious as her parents often were of letting her out of their sight, as long as she stuck to Diagon Alley her safety was assured. Not only had she walked this route numerous times before, and younger, her aunt was a very senior member of the department of magical law enforcement. That provided an element of safety as well, not too many within their small community, would tempt fate within Diagon Alley by messing with a family member of someone who worked there.

So, as close to home as those stories came, they hadn't really hit home. To her, magic was whimsical, fun and full of adventure. Warnings aside, her parents and aunt had ensured that darkness had not touched her life. Susans regular unaccompanied trips through Diagon Alley had increased her associations of fun and whimsy with magic and she longed to grow older so that she could learn more.

Her destination today, as it often was lately, was the book store. 'There may even be enough for ice cream,' she thought clinking the coin in her hands. The last book she had purchased, and finished, was the latest Harry Potter adventure. This time she felt determined for something a little more serious. She was turning nine soon, which meant another year closer to Hogwarts. Another closer to learning and wielding magic, to having her own adventures. Only two to go.

School started the year she turned elven, 'Oh I cannot wait.'

Being the only Bones member of her generation and with the small size of her family, she did at times feel the weight of expectation. The weight of history and those of her magical ancestors that had come before. Her aunts career also very much inspired her. Sometimes she even imagined that it were her in the Harry Potter novels, that was having those adventures.

'Magic,' she thought wondrously eyeing the stores all around her excitingly. 'I will soon be old enough to buy my wand and learn magic.'

The magical stores around her filled her imagination. The sports store had a golden snitch fluttering in front of it, enticing customers to enter and purchase the latest model broom. The hoot of owls filled the air, half kneazles watched passersby proudly as if judging passerby's for the privilege of owning them as pets.

Boom

'Ollivanders,' she thought wistfully as she was forced to dodge a young boy who exploded out of the store. 'I am sure my wand, when it chooses me won't be nearly so temperamental.'

Madam Malkin's had manikins swirling and showing off the latest in fashion for dress robes. 'Of course, charmed to change color and never clash with accessories,' she thought with relish. Feeling the weight of coin in her hand, she was very tempted to be diverted. Her parents had given her money for books though and not clothing. With reluctance she continued down the shopping strip, once again becoming lost in the magic surrounding her. As often as she came through, there was always a new piece of magic, a new mystery to explore.

Soon enough Susan arrived at her destination, nodding at the cashier before getting lost between the shelves. As familiar with the shop as she was, the intent based wards did not need to be explained to her. The wards would read her intent and guide her to what she needed. Today, she was determined to get something that would show her parents that she was growing up. No longer the child that she had been. Something that would make ger aunt and family proud of her.

With such loose intent, and weak will, only those books posing a danger to her were hidden. The cashier would be watching for any trouble in the worst case. A familiar sight of tall shelves, filled with book of varying shapes and sizes, twisted and towered over her. Stretching as far as she could see. 'Even here,' she smiled 'magical is amazing.'

Focusing her concentration on the weight of coin in her hand, she beamed as the isles rearranged themselves in front of her, shuffling and shrinking. 'That's more like it, and it is the first time I have been able to manage that trick.' At least today, she would only be browsing the books she could afford with the money she had been given.

Clinking the metal coins in her hand, she started whistling merrily. "History and divination," she mumbled, allowing her hand to brush across the titles. The weight of time, forward and backward pressed on her mind. Enticing her to choose a book and suggesting such possibilities. 'No, I don't think so.' Susan wrinkled her nose and continued browsing the shelves.

She couldn't imagine a time before the bookstore had implemented the new catalogue. Allowing customers to capture a hint of the knowledge the books were trying to impart. Her parents assured her that it had involved a lot of hunting, prereading and the purchasing of books that weren't quiet what they were looking for. This system was way better. 'I hope Hogwarts as adopted it.'

"Let's see, Herbology and the care for magical creatures," she paused her perusal of magical disciplines as the impressions washed over her. This time a sense of wildness and open wilderness filled her mind, of magic unconstrained and an echo of a wild roar filled her ears. The excitement that filled her as she read new adventures and overcame new challenges permeated her mind. "Perhaps. They are Hogwarts subjects and I could get a head start."

She would come back if nothing else took her interest. She was looking for something that would grab her, something that felt right.

"Elementals, Alchemy, Fields and Dimensional study." Whereas the divination and history books had created a sense of time, weighing on her mind and enticing her with possibilities. Here amongst these, the weight of possibilities stretched her mind impossibly thin, squeezing and twisting in ways that she could barely understand. She didn't even understand all of the words that they used or the symbols that she couldn't stop staring at.

Susan put the thick tomes back and hurried further down the shelves. Those books were definitely too advanced for her and while in theory, the wards should have filtered out any books that posed a risk to her the feeling of discomfort echoed through her mind, even after she had left the area.

Like the warnings and fear of the last war, the danger of magical objects of all types had been passed on. The feeling of discomfort around those books had been the first time she had experienced something that made her wonder and consider those warnings seriously.

Thwarted in her search, she reluctantly turned around, resigning herself to checking to see if there were any Harry Potter books that she didn't already own, or back tracking to the books on Herbology and care of magical creatures. It was then that her eyes caught on a thin notebook jammed horizontally between the shelves. Pulling a stool across, she climbed up in curiosity, picking it up.

A sense of possibilities filled her mind, the inevitability of goals achieved with hard work. The feeling she was getting from the book matched her intent perfectly. "Introduction to Magical Theory for the wandless witch or wizard." Susan gasped at seeing the author, Seraphina Bones.

This was the book she was looking for.

Flicking through it on the way to the cashier reinforced her decision. 'No wand diagrams, No weird symbols, runic arrays or equations. No long words that I can only imagine what they might mean. Authored by a member of my family, this is exactly what I was looking for.' If it ended up being incomprehensible, she was sure her aunt or parents would be able to provide her some insight, and she still had enough left over for ice cream.

With a spring in her step, Susan paid for her new book and headed north up the alley to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. The discomfort at her brush with magic within the book store already forgotten. Florean was a family friend and wouldn't mind her getting started on her book whilst she enjoyed a tub of his famous hundred flavored chocolate ice cream.

Despite how late it was getting, she still had some time before she needed to get home for her curfew. Her mother would definitely accuse her of becoming a Ravenclaw with the time she had spent in the bookstore.

Gripping her book tightly as she entered the parlor, she noticed that it was unusually empty for the time of day. The young boy she had noticed the last few times she had visited, sat quietly in his usual corner with his own books sprawled across the table.

"Susan," Florean boomed from behind the ice cream display. "Your mom told me that I should be expecting you. She mentioned that you might have a new book."

Susan smiled prettily, proudly displaying her new book. "I might need your help with this one, it felt pretty advanced." Florean had kindly helped her before, 'Florian's pretty smart, and a big fan of magical history.'

"Of course, little lady. Your usual," at her nod, she deposited her remaining coins on the counter. Florean started to scoop large spheres of his famous hundred flavors chocolate into a tub for her.

Turning around, she faced a dilemma. She could pick an empty table, she normally did. But something about the boy intrigued her. He had been here the last few times she had visited for ice cream, a mystery that demanded solving. The books he spread across his table looked like magical references rather than children's books. Much as they had the last few times she had seen him, sitting in the same corner of the ice cream parlor, thoroughly engrossed and occasionally muttering to himself.

Although he looked roughly school age, classes were currently running at Hogwarts, so he must be younger. The boy had long, ruffled hair, but was otherwise dressed in respectable robes, hinting at his social standing. Susan had never seen any parents with the boy either, increasing her curiosity.

With some determination, cramping down on the shyness that threatened to dissuade her, Susan made a bee-line to the young boy at the table. 'Hannah wouldn't let me hear the end of it for a week if I let the mystery continue.' Sitting opposite him she put her hand out for him to shake, obstructing the view of the book that he was reading. "Hi, my name is Susan Bones."

The boy looked up from his book, his face absent of any annoyance she may have expected from interrupting him. "Harry," he replied grasping her hand in his. "I have noticed you reading here before." Taking the words that she had been considering earlier straight out of her mouth as he let his lips brush her knuckles. Providing another hint at his social standing.

Not that she cared about that rubbish, but her tutor had covered it and it was another clue as to his identity.

"What are you reading?" he asked, gesturing at her book. Susan felt herself grasping the book shyly, second guessing her original choice.

"Introduction to Magical Theory for the wandless wizard or witch." Susan handed the book over reluctantly, "have you heard of it?" She asked, stealing glimpses of the books that he had been reading. They appeared to be magical history books, some of which looked very old, others by non-human authors. 'Probably old family books,' his clothing and posture didn't scream the wealth or prestige that would be needed to afford books like that.

"Of course, by Seraphina Bones," Harry started, looking up momentarily as Florian brought two tubs of ice cream by their table. "Thank you, sir that is very generous of you." Susan hesitated, knowing that she had only paid for a single tub.

Harry didn't seem to hesitate, digging in.

"No worries young ones," the man grinned. "Cannot have my two favorite customers going hungry when discussing such weighty issues now can we." Waving at the books spread across the table, "enjoy it. On the house."

Harry grinned at the back of the retreating man, his lips already stained brown with consumed chocolate ice cream. "Yep, as I was saying. Bones. One of the few books I have found that talks about the trinity aspects of magic, specifically the magic one can use to evolve your body to be able to better channel magic."

Susan looked at him blankly. Trinity aspects of magic? Evolving the body to better channel magic? 'That sounds like dark magic to me,' she shuddered as she imagined sacrificial rituals that may be involved in changing her body to become more powerful at wielding magic.

Who was this boy sitting in front of her? She doubted that he would be openly discussing dark magic in the middle of an ice cream shop while he downed a tub of chocolate ice cream. She almost giggled at the ridiculous imagery.

A dark lord with a secret addiction to chocolate ice cream.

"You have heard of the trinity aspects of magic, haven't you?" Harry asked with a tone that somehow managed to mix concern and consternation.

"Nope," Susan quipped taking her book back. "Its not some kind of dark magic is it?"

"Dark Mag…" Harry bit off his retort angrily before apologizing as Susan shied back from his mood change. Spreading out a piece of parchment, and pushing his books to one side, he drew three equally sized and overlapping circles.

Susan leaned forward to get a better look, she really had never heard of the trinity aspects of magic. Her tutor had certainly never covered them, perhaps she would learn about them at Hogwarts when she started, but then how would the boy in front of her have heard of them?

And how can magic have aspects, or even three of them?

"The three aspects of magic are mind, body and of course the magic you are already familiar with, that internal to you. As we mature and grow, work hard and study, each will develop – influencing and being influenced by the development of the other aspects." Harry studied her to see if she was following. "Those aspects will come to reflect who you are, the philosophies and principle you live your life by, the legacy that you leave behind in the family heritage."

Susan still felt a little confused, mind, body, magic, family heritage she still couldn't tell how they were related. The concept was completely different to what she imagined magic, this was not wand waving and spoken spells.

"Consider this," Harry drew a single smaller circle this time. "As you age, you are incredibly lazy, enjoying a lifestyle that leads to poor health outcomes and a sick and weakened body."

"Study was never your thing, so your mind remains untrained. In fact, your health effects your thoughts making them cloudy and concentration difficult. Your moods swing randomly." This time he drew an overlapping circle, slightly smaller than the first. "The condition of your body has effected your mind, your thoughts and effected your will and concentration."

Now he drew a third circle, bigger than that of the first, that overlapped both the other circles. "Your magic will mature as you get older, growing in strength and naturally offsetting some of the damage. However due to the mood swings, your magic is wild, uncontrolled and poorly trained. Your magical potential is stunted, a fraction of what it could have been if your mind was effectively trained and your body allowed to strengthen without constraint."

"Worse, the most demanding magics put strain on both the mind and body, meaning that entire fields will be forever out of your reach."

Susan nodded, that seemed logical. She imagined the circles increasing and shrinking through hard work and training, but she was still confused at how the magic could affect the mind and body. Emotion driven accidental magic she was familiar with, as was anyone her age, but the other? "What about the other way around Harry, how can magic grow or constrain the development of the mind or body?"

Harry smiled, reaching out and touching the cover of her book. "There are magical arts, such as occlumency, that work to structure the mind. With enough training, recall and learning becomes easier, even intuitively recognizing the possibilities of magic. It also serves to protect the mind from those that would access or corrupt it, injecting compulsions or merely altering memory. Such an act could change who we are, who we were meant to be."

Susan shivered, not liking the direction the conversation was going, that sounded too much like the stories her family told her of the events in the last war.

"Unlike the mind, which hungers for change, plastic and moldable. The body can only be modified and enhanced radically after maturity. Using your internal magic to alter what's there, enhancing it, willing it to become a greater instrument of magic. No longer will you be constrained and reliant to magic you are born with, but you will be able to tap and alter the fabric of reality."

"The Bones were specialist in that kind of magic. It made them highly effective in combat, easily allowing them to out duel the average witch or wizard." Harry looked at her, his green eyes shining with curiosity. "I can only imagine what knowledge exists within your family heritage."

Pausing dramatically, he swept his hands apart, "You are wondering however, how your magic can impact upon your development unintentionally. The cautionary tales and outcasts of society." Harry moved his head closer so as to whisper, "one such is the obscurial."

"When a child is determined to deny their magical heritage, to suppress the magical power that is their birthright, or forced to, then an almighty magical backlash can form. Dark and parasitic, the magic transforms their mind and body. Forged by their negative emotions, driven by an intent for revenge, warping them and creating something new. Something violent, destructive and full of raw fury – there is no coming back from something like that."

Susan shivered in fright, thoughts of accidently transforming into a dark creature filled her with fear, she doubted she would sleep easily tonight. The whimsical and fun image she had of magic was now shattered.

Sitting back, unaware of how much he had scared the young girl, he smiled and gestured to his original diagram. "It is why maintaining an intentional balance between the trinity aspects is so important. If any of them is unintentionally unbalanced, there is a possibility that it could randomly affect the evolution of the others. Thereby altering your development and changing the person you are destined become."

"How do you know all of this," Susan stammered.

"Well, it never to early to start. I have been working on my balance for some time. Of course, it will be years before I am ready to anything dramatic. Biology works against me there, I have only just turned nine."

Susan continued looking blankly at his diagrams, her ice cream long forgotten. She had never thought magic could be so complicated, so fluid or filled with such unexpected consequences. All the fairy tales she had dismissed as amusing childish stories, filled with strange consequences suddenly didn't seem so foolish or childish.

'Only nine, around my age, what else had she missed out on?' she thought. Well she had intended to start growing up and leaving behind the more childish things.

"Would it be acceptable if I owled you? I have never heard of the trinity aspects of magic before and I am keen to learn more. Particularly if the Bones heritage is tied so tightly to such magics."

Harry just smiled, "of course."

(BREAK)

**Year 1989**

A clock chimed six.

Edward Greengrass looked up from the letter he was in the process of sealing, the melted wax stub next to his family seal. A half glass of firewisky sat in front of him on the desk, candle light illuminated the room. Maintaining his family's wealth and influence, combined with his leadership position within the Wizengamot kept him extremely busy.

Around him, his study was an example of organized chaos. His papers covering Wizengamot business were neatly stacked next to his family accounts. Behind him, his favorite magical tomes for quick reference. These days, he rarely had the time to make it to his more extensive library. 'As busy as life is,' Edward thought in contentment. 'I would not trade it for the days the dark lord fought openly against the Ministry of Magic.'

Those days were, he shuddered thinking of those days, terrible. Where there had been the very real possibility that they might have all been killed, or worse, without warning. That threat, fear and anxiety at decisions made, words spoken, had lasted the duration of the war.

He, on behalf of his family, had refused to bow to the destructive views of those openly supporting the dark lord. It was a risky stance, as dark lord and his death eaters had taken to removing those they considered unworthy from British magical society, permanently. Risky as it was, he considered it in his family's best interest.

On the other side of the hot conflict, opposing the dark lord was Albus Dumbledore and those that supported his view. Accepting Albus's protection would have meant accepting an end to the rich heritage that his family had built since the days that the romans had walked British soil. The Ministry had barely been able hold government, their ranks infiltrated by subversive elements, besieged on all sides.

It was a clayton's choice, by falling behind or allying themselves with any of the sides within the conflict, he risked becoming a target and the Greengrass's destruction. Over the decade those that had involved themselves, that were active within the so-called pureblood war, had been decimated. Entire Families had vanished from history, continuing the destruction started in the great wizarding war.

He had survived through frequent bribes and laying low behind the strongest protective wards he could manage. Both sides of the conflict had found it easier to be bribed, than to take the effort to remove them. There were more active battlefronts. 'Oh, there were claims of cowardice from both sides. Slurs that continued to this day. But history proved me right, gold can be replaced, blood and magic cannot.'

Around him, friends and extended family were suffering horribly, some were killed. For all of his power, his money and influence he had found himself helpless, barely able to protect his immediate family. He didn't compare to the magical strength of Voldemort or Albus Dumbledore, few did. Nor did he have any appetite to make it a three-way civil war.

Then it ended.

Days away from the collapse of the Ministry of Magic, when it would become inevitable that he would have had to bow his head to a new regime, the war was over. Harry Potter, only a year old, had somehow vanquished the dark lord. 'In some ways,' he mused. 'I am still living with the legacy of the choices that I took back then.'

Close to a decade of powerlessness and mindless slaughter, combined with extremes in ideology, had inspired him. He had begun to gather likeminded families within the Wizengamot, forming a powerful voting bloc. 'Bah, Albus definition of dark magic is ludicrous and the Malfoys and Notts would have us a fraction of what we could be, magically and economically.'

Six o'clock. Albus Dumbledore would be visiting soon to discuss some amendments to a bill currently being debated, seeking to limit legitimate commerce between the wizarding world and that of the muggle.

"Exploitative he calls it," Edward scoffed clearing off his desk. He wouldn't dare leave anything unwarranted out, Albus was exceptionally sharp.

As his daughters grew older, he had found himself thinking about the future. About the legacy he would leave them. Daphne's unsupervised excursion outside the family wards had scared him, the memories of war still fresh in his mind. There had been too much blood and terror.

When asked, she continued on insisting on the truthfulness of her ridiculous tales of Harry Potter. 'Harry Potter,' Edward just shook his head in exasperation. 'The boy hadn't been seen since that fateful night.' He doubted he would be until Hogwarts, if then. Certainly not stumbling across their very hidden and extremely well protected estate.

Edward would never call his daughter a liar, but, 'she will need to learn, if she persists, that tall tales carry consequences.' Oh, he had deservedly grounded her. Her mother and he had given her such a scolding, he doubted she would ever forget. 'It was little wonder her owl traffic had increased dramatically.'

There had been one positive outcome, apart from his greying hair. His little girl had become far more studious, often entering his study to ask questions about their family heritage, magic and their current role within the Wizengamot. He had to consider that something had happened in her little misadventure.

'If not Harry Potter, then what?' he was sure that she would tell him eventually. If she continued asking the questions she had been, it wouldn't be long before he was inducting her into some more of the family business. 'She really was growing up,' he smiled witfully.

Gulping the remainder of the glass in front of him, Edward got up to place another glass on the desk. Albus would no doubt refuse the excellent vintage, but he would offer nevertheless.

A chime sounded in his study, 'that will be the floo. Punctual,' Edward frowned. Albus was usually at least a little late. His attempt at showing his importance no doubt. Clearly, Albus desperately wanted something and he now doubted that it had anything to do with the economic bill before the Wizengamot.

In this negotiation, he would make the most of the advantage given, even if a small one. Even in his home and clearly needing something he had in his power to give, Albus was a canny negotiator. He would not hurry to greet the old wizard, a small discourtesy in turn.

A sharp yelp caught his ears as he stepped across the threshold of the waiting area. Edward stepped into a nightmare. Daphne, his eldest daughter, was cowering at the feet of the older man, whimpering, hands clasped to her head in pain.

Albus Dumbledore had his wand pointing at the daughter.

"What is the meaning of this Albus," Edward roared, pulling his own want out. "I will have your head on a platter for this insult. Explain yourself now," he roughly pulled Daphne behind him and listened for the pops of house elves behind him, feeling his intent and magic. They would protect their master.

His wards hummed dangerously causing Albus to quickly sheathe his wand.

"Now Edward," Albus stepped carefully backward towards the floo. "This is all a big misunderstanding. I was merely asking Daphne some questions."

Edward held his anger tightly as he thought furiously, frowning in consternation as Albus tried to de-escalate the situation. He had never trusted the sanctimonious chief warlock. Although matching the dark lord in power, Albus was not known for eliminating entire families. 'How would I know,' Edward thought in concern. 'Within the fog of war, casualties could easily be blamed on enemy action.' As strong as his magical defenses were, they were mostly a deterrent. He had never wanted to test them against a serious, prepared assault by someone of Albus's or the dark lords power.

It was not like Albus to be so overt in action. To attack the family of a member of the Wizengomot in their own home, despite their magical defenses. "Why," he growled.

"He was asking me about Harry Potter daddy," Daphne sobbed tearfully, the wrinkles across her face showed that she was still in pain. "He kept asking when I had seen him, and where. When he stared into my eyes my head hurt awfully. He then drew his wand."

"Why would Albus Dumbledore want to hurt me?"

Edward had the same question, and one more. What was Albus searching for in his daughter's mind. Worse, had Albus done more than just illegally perform legilimency on his daughter?

"That is a very good question Daphne," Edward turned his worried eyes from his daughter back toward the Chief Warlock, and perhaps one day, Daphne's headmaster. "Why Albus, why come invited only to attack. We certainly are not your usual targets."

Albus bowed his head as if in shame. 'Pantomime,' Edward scoffed, keeping his wand steady on the powerful wizard. He was sure the man only felt sorry he had been caught.

"I can certainly see what it might look like Edward, I really did come to discuss the wizard-muggle economic bill. When Daphne came by asking me questions of magical theory, who was I to ignore such an inquiring mind." Albus spread his hands as he explained.

"I am after all, foremost, an educator. Still, it has come to my attention that Daphne had been spreading rumors of an adventure with Harry Potter, I was curious." His gestures screamed, all perfectly reasonable, nothing to see here.

"Do you take me for a fool Albus. Do you think I would not recognize legilimency when I saw its effects? Daphne is my heir. I am tempted to call the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to put you in chains. Even you would have trouble wiggling out of this one." Edward growled.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't."

Albus looked conflicted, appearing to finger a hidden wand and giving the appearance of a man weighing up options. He eyed Edwards firm grip and Edward had no doubt he felt the humming of the wards, still fueled by his deadly intent. The chief warlock, sighing loudly slumped as if coming to a decision.

"I apologize Edward, Daphne. I give my word I intended no harm. You see," Albus paused as if gathering his strength. Edward gathered his concentration, drawing his will as if anticipating trickery and preparing for conflict.

"Harry Potter is missing."

Only to almost drop his wand, mouth open in surprise. Whatever he had expected, that was not it.

"What? How?" Edwards took a moment to gather his thoughts, lowering his wand. 'Was this some kind of trick?' Edward considered, though his mind did go to the tales Daphne had been carrying since her misadventure outside of the estate wards.

"Toffy," He gestured to one of the house elves behind him, coming to a decision. "Please ensure that Daphne gets to bed safely. The rest of you can resume your duties." In the morning he would ensure that his daughter was OK, children were resilient, but at her age he feared that tonight's events would stay with her.

"We had better resume this in my study Albus," he gestured, assuming that the chief warlock would follow him, already lost in his thoughts. He would never forgive Albus the attack, and he would never forget. Trust in the Chief Warlock had never been great, now it would color every political negotiation and every debate. 'But,' Edward thought. 'For Albus to even consider doing what he did shows how on edge the man is. I will use that.'

Once in his study, he filled the two glasses of firewisky, sitting opposite and studying Albus. The aged wizard looked tired. "Tell me what this nonsense is about Harry Potter Albus, and what it has to do with attacking my family in my own home. That magic has been misused terribly and I am furious that you considered it OK to use on my little girl."

Albus took the glass, cradling it calmly in one hand and looking over his half-moon glasses, as if he hadn't just been caught cruelly assaulting a nine year old girl. "Close to three years ago, and around a week before the explosion at Godrics Hollow, Harry Potter disappeared from his home. Despite a large number of resources deployed, I have yet to discover his whereabouts. There has been no evidence I could find indicating whether he was taken forcibly or left on voluntarily. His age suggests that unlikely."

Taking a deep draw from his glass, he leaned forward in emphasis, "Daphne's stories were the first lead I have since he disappeared. Before that – nothing." Edward could hear the exasperation bleeding through. Albus Dumbledore was most likely not used to putting his mind toward something for so long and coming up empty handed.

"I let my eagerness overwrite my good sense. I am sorry Edward." Oh, Albus might look contrite and mouth the right words, but Edward knew better. This man was a consummate politician. He had played this game before, this time he had been caught, and Edward would not allow him to leave without extracting a price.

The political fallout, both men knew, would continue for years. The leverage he had been given was substantial, and he was experienced enough to exploit it fully. This little interrogation was about preventing him from involving the Ministry in such an egregious breach in protocol.

"You will have to give me more than that Albus," Edward smiled sharply. "Harry Potter has been a central figure in our community since the end of the war. As far as we knew, he has been absent since that time. Children's books, fiction and speculation aside. What has changed? Are you admitting that you had a hand in his placement after the death of James and Lily?"

Albus grimaced, knowing that he had little choice, "yes. Both were close friends of mine, and after the unfortunate events with Sirius and the Longbottom's, I placed him with his maternal Aunt."

"Muggles! Are you mad?" Edward half rose from his seat before collapsing back. "What game are you playing Albus, how will he learn even a fraction of what he needs to know in that environment. His Potter magical heritage, the family magics, centuries of history." He almost shook in fury. It was worse than he thought. If Harry Potter was being raised to be Albus political foot soldier, even in ignorance, dire times were coming to their community. The man had been playing the long game after all. Any accessions he had won over the years would mean naught.

For the first time tonight, Albus smiled his grandfatherly smile, his eyes twinkled in amusement. "I am sure once he starts at Hogwarts, he will have time for all of that." The man didn't even acknowledge that as headmaster, he would have even greater control in shaping the boy through his education. He didn't need to. He was all but admitting his control over the boy, a great and noble house not his own.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Harry had gone missing, out from under Albus control.

'Really,' he considered carefully, still horrified at Albus's actions tonight. 'That would depend on where Harry Potter had disappeared to and why, it is hard to speculate without more information.' Which brought him back to Daphne. He would have to conduct some investigations himself, and his allies in the Wizengamot needed to know Albus games.

"Did you get what you needed when you invaded my Daughters mind?" Edward bit out stiffly.

"A curious thing," Albus sat back in his chair. Seemingly relaxed at discussing the breaking into the young girl's mind. "I had barely touched upon the memories when she launched back in pain. All I received was impressions," Edward could see the Chief Warlocks mind turning. Both men would no doubt wish this night had ended differently, still, he was gratified that his political rival had not gained everything that he had wanted.

"No doubt you have had her training in occlumency," Albus probed. "An obscure branch of magic, and very unusual for someone her age to start training." Edward gave nothing away, deflecting the conversation back to the subject of Harry Potter.

"Surely, with your resources you have discovered something in all the time you have spent searching for the Potter scion. What of his muggle family?"

"Surprisingly little," Albus offered begrudgingly. "Your daughter really was the first hint that I have been able to find. He is alive. Where, who is with him, I really don't have any idea."

'So, it seems by some coincident, I now control access to the only readily available information on the location of last scion of house Potter.' He would have to give some thought on how to use that, 'I can only imagine the fallout if Harry isn't found before he turns eleven.'

If nothing else, Albus must not be allowed to continue with his plans for the Boy Who Lived.

"Well then, it seems that we are at an impasse," Edward stood up. "If you will excuse me, it has been a trying night and I am sure that you yourself are a very busy man. Pottsy," he summoned a house elf to see Albus out, "please see the chief Warlock out and then lock the floo for tonight."

"Toffy," he called out after he was certain that Albus had gone. "Has Daphne settled," Edward didn't want his daughter even more unsettled after tonight. Tomorrow would be time enough to quiz her further about her knowledge of Harry Potter. It seemed incredible that earlier this evening he had completely dismissed such tales as a fabrication. With Albus's actions, he could no longer do that.

"She is master Greengrass, I will keep an eye on her tonight to make sure no more harm comes to her." Edward grunted in acknowledgement, dismissing the elf. Tomorrow would yield a great deal of changes, only time would tell if it offered to increase their fortunes.

'Tomorrow,' he nodded finishing of his firewisky. 'in the meantime, I fully intend to safeguard all memories of tonight against tampering before morning.' Between duplicating all of his memories and estate recordings, he doubted he would get much sleep.

(BREAK)

Harry Potter sat in the middle of his druid's circle, letting his mind and internal magic drift and intermingle with the magic that surrounded him. His mind strained for comprehension and recognition of the ways in which he could use his magic to bend reality to his will. The dimensions of it, it's shape and structure. Even with his knowledge and memories of the future, what he had known was possible and the way he had bent reality – his young mind shied away from some of the more fluid concepts.

His mind needed further training, growth and building before it would be ready to understand all that it had once. He considered that the start rather than the end. So, he explored and delved, re-travelling some of the paths he had before, paths that should lead to the understanding he needed. Although he couldn't comprehend all that he once had, his mind recognized its lack, with echoes of loss and remnants of paths not yet travelled.

Strengthening his mind, and allowing his magic to explore the soft nature of magic, where rules were subject to imagination and will, was an important exercise in his training. At this point in his development it was even more important than training his body or trying to access a wand. Training his mind allowed his magic to respond in ways that it simple had not until he was much older in his last life. In this lifetime he was not constrained by his simple understanding of wanded magics.

Just as biology and his bodies immaturity limited the more advanced and powerful magics that he could use compared to what he had once had due to the strain, his mind could equally snap under the pressure. It was why the ministry forced students to learn wanded magic from eleven. The risks were far less, the learning curve far more predictable, practitioners were simply far less likely to unbalance their aspects as they matured naturally.

Very few in their community ever broke the limits such indoctrination into the rules-based system placed on them. 'It's almost like designing a magic system for squibs and forcing wizards to go through it rather than catering to their extra abilities.' It made him angry, and it is why he had set out on the course that he had. It seemed he had been given a second chance.

Ironically the presence of Voldemort's horcrux actually helped this process. It had been three years, and he was still finding tendrils of foreign magic trying to influence the development of his magical aspects along with tiny barbs of compulsion deep within his mind. He was certain that as he grew his own understanding and strengthened his new mind, he would continue to find and remove ever smaller and subtler effects.

Soul magic was not something he had ever really focused on in his former life, but the horcrux was a piece of magical genius, disturbing and morally ambiguous, but very advanced magic. It was a self-contained seed of Voldemort's core identity, his magic, mind and a pattern of his body from the point in time of the horcrux's creation. In a living host, it sought to grow, influence and eventually consume, creating the perfect body for Voldemort to continue his life after death. Immortality throughout the ages.

Knowing what the dark lord knew of the prophecy at the time, he couldn't help but think that it was a deliberate ploy to spit in the face of fate and Albus's hopes. Arrogant and fraught with unknown consequences due to the nature of magic, however it did speak volumes for the mindset of Voldemort, as well as the limitations of his understanding into the purer, rawer forms of magic and its consequences.

Isolating the parasite within him, until he could find a safe way to disperse it, was an excellent training exercise and furthered his understanding of the mind and soul. Those lessons would be very useful in the future.

Another benefit of his training was the magic he was using, spreading and infusing it over his land, strengthened through his intent and increasingly influenced by his more esoteric understanding. The increased use of esoteric magics would accelerate the changes in the land, attracting spirits and spinning elementals from the ether. Magical creatures and plants attracted to this wilderness would draw their potency from the nature of the magics that surrounded them.

Over time, with enough work and subject to the magics conducted, pockets of time may even bubble up in places. Eventually even perception and how people understood the universe would be altered. This would become a truly magical place with enough time and investment of magic.

A space he could begin to create a century sooner, not as a personal sanctuary, but as a communal tribute to their collective history of magic.

He had made progress towards this goal, as much as he had on his own magical aspects. However, it would be decades before it became self-sustaining. If he could change the education system and magical government, he could transform the British magical communities understanding and use of magic. Enabling them to better take advantage of the gifts they had been born with.

He hoped in the future that Daphne and Susan, whom he had been gently introducing to his conceptual system of magic, would join him.

Regular correspondence with Daphne had shown her to be a quick study, eager to understand the world and her place in it. Hungry to be someone to make an impact, honoring her family heritage. Now that he had helped her on her path, he could see the very beginnings of her family magics starting to influence her growth. All she had needed was someone to support her on her journey.

He had expected to wait until she was older before he prompted her about politics and the role of her family, however to his surprise she had taken to his history lesson when he had first met her and run with it with gusto. Interrogating her tutor and frequently bailing her father up to ask about the British magical government and their role in it.

Following with owls to him with further questions, and eventually discussions over the labels that the ministry placed on light and dark magic, the role of Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort along with the families that supported them.

He feared that his approach with Susan Bones had been too heavy handed, he forgot what it was like to genuinely be and think like a preteen. After a rocky start, his correspondence with the youngest Bones had been going well.

Her questions had been even more inquisitive, her family politics being far more rooted within the ministry and Albus's thinking, making his answers even more provocative. 'It's a crime that they should seek to grind down the Bones Legacy. Even through ignorance.'

He hadn't misled Susan about her family, he suspected that throughout history the Bones had delved deeper than even he, into body magic and the channeling of the magic that surrounded them. If Susan really did connect fully with her family's older magic, she would find her potential and legacy significantly changed.

For the better.

'I would also be fooling myself if I didn't hope that she might share some of that knowledge in the future.'

It was nearing a point where they would need to step up their training and exposure to magic, here in the space that he had created. The training that they could receive here was far more valuable and effective than they might achieve on their own over owl. 'The question is how?' he thought. His mind still distracted by the exploration of the limits of possibilities and the subjective nature of reality.

'It isn't like I can arrange regular playdates at the home of the missing Harry Potter.' Harry chuckled at the reaction of the wizarding world. It had been only luck and an over-reliance on the circumspection of two preteen girls that word hadn't really leaked out that they had been regularly corresponding with him.

The sound of an incoming owl broke him out of his trance, considering that it had passed through the boundary of his landholding, he assumed it was either Daphne or Susan.

'Daphne then,' he held his arm out for the black and white stripped goshawk. Peeling the letter from around its leg, the bird took off squalling angrily. 'So, something has happened then. Clearly not expecting an immediate reply.'

Soon Harry was re-reading the letter in disbelief. Albus Dumbledore had attacked Daphne, in front of her own father, in an attempt to find his location.

"Now that is ballsy, even for Albus." Harry sorted, "It is why I was so careful to remove my location from Daphne's mind of course but the political ramifications – just wow." Albus had essentially just alienated nine families. There was simply not enough independents and unaligned votes in the Wizengamot to make up the shortfall.

The Notts and Malfoys would never agree with Albus stance and ideology. The Wizengamot had become officially deadlocked.

He also suspected that her family magic had starting to interact and influence the development of her own, 'it was in her own home,' Harry just shook his head. Combined with Albus's confusion at finding any resistance within her mind, where he would have expected none, had created the effect that she described. Harry didn't doubt that if her father had not walked in when he had, Albus would've had no difficulty at retrieving the information he wanted from Daphne's mind. "No one doubts the old man's power and influence."

It was why he wanted to stay under the radar as long as he could, the freedom to move, act, to train and prepare was invaluable. Once he started school, he would need to be far more circumspect.

Harry could almost read Daphne's determination and anger in the demand for greater training and access to magical information. 'So, she knows or at least suspects that I have significantly more magical knowledge than she would be able to get her hands on.'

Her father, Edward's, reaction was also interesting. Edward had died before Harry really had anything to do with the Wizengamot, so he had never really known the man. It opened up possibilities to the very challenge that he had been considering. Perhaps it was time for some minimal exposure after all.

After the incident in the Greengrass family home, Edward would not likely be in any mood to cooperate with Albus Dumbledore. Equally, his stance during the last conflict suggested he was unlikely to reach out to Voldemort's supporters. 'A small risk then,' he reasoned.

While the Greengrass's and Bones operated in different social circles, he may yet be able to orchestrate an opportunity for Daphne and Susan both to come for more regular training.

A floo connection was out of the question, that would require interacting with the ministry. 'Oh, I can hack an illegal connection,' Harry thought. He certainly had the knowledge but that risked being shut down as soon as they found it, or worse being monitored.

The limited time he had before Hogwarts didn't make that a good investment.

Besides that, he would need access to his vaults to fund the fees and bribes that would be needed. That would mean dealing goblins. 'Yeah, no thanks.'

Perhaps Edward would, with appropriate sureties, accept a portal of his own tied directly into his wards. Daphne had already experienced a temporary one that he had opened up when he had first brought her here. The magic that supported its creation hadn't been invented yet, making it an even more a secure option.

"Yes," he thought. "Now, how to impresses an old pureblood who regularly stood up to Dumbledore and the families that supported the dark lord. A dark lord who will be attempting a return imminently if the changes that he had made to the timestream had not effected things too seriously."

Harry returned to his training, focusing on the options and inherent risks. He would have an answer ready once Daphne's bird returned.


	4. Who is Harry Potter

**Title:** To Where It All Began

**Author name:** Kung-lou

**Author email:** AU

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Harry had had a good life, a long life. One filled with family and exploring the limits of magic. At the end, he was ready to greet death as his ancestors had, as an old friend. It seems however that magic and death weren't finished with him. Master of Death, Political.

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these characters.

Author notes: AU, OC Updated 05/02/2020

**Chapter 4: Who is Harry Potter?**

"_Don't explain your philosophy. Embody it."_

― _Epictetus_

**Year 1989**

Cornelius Fudge was an older man, greying behind the temples and one whom perpetually held the practiced and patient look of a bureaucrat. Entirely agreeable and ready to agree with anything you say. It was a look that he had practiced extensively throughout his career. Now, he even held the look behind the closed doors of his office as he reviewed the report in front of him. 'Three years,' Cornelius shook his head. 'Three years and a thorough investigation later and this is the draft my department gave me. The premier experts in magical accidents and catastrophes throughout the British Isles.'

'Bah', it made him look incompetent. It made his department look incompetent.

"There simply aren't any answers in it. Millicent was looking for something to spur her re-election campaign. No chance of that. Not even a hint of a dark wizard, criminal master mind or another target to rally the troops." He sighed, throwing the report on his desk and considering how he could further muddy the recommendations and obscure any hint of blame. 'As it stands, this report makes us all look bloody amateurish. Me specifically.'

That would not do.

While he had almost accepted, that at his age, his career had likely peaked. He still took some pride in his work. Mostly though, he dedicated his time mentoring up and coming talent. With a final flick though the report, Fudge scrawled some notes on the front and grabbing his wand transfigured it into a paper plane. A swirl of his wand later and it was heading back through the gap under the door and travelling on to a destination deeply within his department.

'No,' he thought. 'If Millicent was relying on him to save her in the upcoming election, she really had lost. Two terms, it wasn't a bad stint,' he considered. There had been worse. One poor fellow he knew, had lasted barely the year. Specifically targeted by a dark lord, in open conflict with the goblins and minister at a time when the Ministry of Magic was still transitioning authority from the Warlock Council. 'It was still debated among historians who had got him in the end,' he thought, an ignominious end.

'Two terms of relative peace, she'll be remembered as a decent Minister.' Contemplating her loss at the upcoming election did not give him an answer on who would become minister though. A year out and there was no one yet declared to stand against her. At one time, he would've considered his ambition to advance further, but he knew he lacked the political capital.

The capital he had built over the years had mostly been spent making his final years within the position comfortable. Slowly growing his influence, the budget and size of his department. He had been successful, but still not enough for a run for the Minister position. Certainly not enough to run against the favorites.

Albus Dumbledore himself was the safest bet, defeater of Grindelwald, Supreme Mugwup and Chief Warlock. The only man that Voldemort feared, his power was without doubt. He was massively popular and it didn't take a genius to see that, if he stood, he would have the support of between ten and fifteen old pureblood families.

Then again, if you believed Albus's denials regarding his intention to run, Bartemius Crouch Senior was still very popular in some circles. The way he had treated his son was despicable but his dead wife brought him some sympathy. Bartemius's actions as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during the war was remembered and well regarded.

"Mr Fudge Sir," Cornelius looked up at his secretary. As a junior minister of a department, he was entitled to one. Lisa was only a half blood but she had talent. He was certain that with his help and contacts, she could make a decent career in the Ministry of Magic.

Middle of the road.

"Yes Lisa, is it time for my next appointment?" Apart from that, such a perk was essential when dealing with the constant incidents and accidents that occurred throughout magical Britain. There were always children whose magic had not yet settled down, potion accidents or drunken escapades to deal with. Thankfully, now that the war had ended, the recent disaster at the Potter Cottage or the vanquishing of the dark lord were rare occurrences.

Fudge shuddered at the mere thought of the man, a decade of being called out to deal with the worst magic, the worst atrocities, had instilled a deep fear of the man in him. If he was a man. He still had nightmares of those days, the anxiety that he would be targeted next even now wasn't completely gone.

"No sir. Its Lucius Malfoy. He doesn't have an appointment; shall I schedule one?"

Cornelius waved her off, "No that's fine please, show him in."

He wondered what the rich pureblood lord wanted, no word of any incident affecting the Malfoy family had reached him. Lucius would certainly want any incident involving Draco quietly swept under the proverbial rug if that were the case. Still, nothing else came to mind, he and the Malfoy lord didn't frequent the same social circles.

"Lucius," Cornelius plastered his friendliest smile on his face, preparing to do the man a favor. Pretending that such an incident wasn't common. "Good to see you. What can I or my department help you with today?" It was an occupational hazard, none of the older families wanted even a hint of a tantrum driven magical outburst to affect their heir's records.

"You know we would always welcome a donation from a wealthy patron such as yourself to continue doing the good work that we do." It was a small fishing exercise, one with a little bit of hope. His junior ministry was always looking for addition funds and resources. Lucius had funded departments before and he really couldn't think of a good reason for the visit.

"Sadly no, Cornelius." Lucius replied as he walked in, his decorated cane tapping loudly on the floor. Dressed impeccably in the finest black silk, Lucius was a man that held himself proudly. His presence screamed of the wealth and power the Malfoy family represented. "I am here for a more personal matter," he calmly sat down, sweeping his cloak to the side. Lucius's cane still clutched tightly in his hands.

Cornelius withheld the grimace with seasoned practice, of course, what had the young Malfoy scion done now. "What are your thoughts about Minister Bagnold's chances at the next election."

What.

It took a second to wrench his train of thoughts back from where he had anticipated the conversation going. Once he had, his political senses were screaming alarm bells at him. There was a danger here, and without knowing the game Lucius was playing he could not afford to play.

Being honest was not something that even passed his mind, 'even a moderately successful career in the Ministry trained that out of you.'

"You know that I don't really follow the polls Lucius, have there been any announcements of candidates yet?" Cornelius sat back in his chair, looking over his table at the wealthy, well connected, and pureblood member of the Wizengamot. Eyes fixed carefully, studying Lucius's body language, trying to gauge intention. 'Games are a foot and Lucius isn't known to come off second best very often.'

"I am sure you know that they haven't," Lucius drawled. "With the Wizengamot deadlocked and without Albus running, the field is wide open."

Cornelius was happy to let the man continue to satisfy his curiosity. Lucius had certainly not yet shared anything that told him what he was doing in his office without an appointment. Nor had he shared anything that would lead him to share his own speculations.

"If an independently wealthy patron were to fund the campaign of a respected member of our society, they could have a shot."

That caught his attention, the forgotten spark of ambition shimmered at the merest hint, perhaps not so resigned after all. 'Was Lucius suggesting what I think he is suggesting,' he wondered.

"Someone with an Order of Merlin, for example."

Now he sat forward, leaning in towards Lucius across the desk. "Even if you were to do such a thing and Albus doesn't run, Bartemius Crouch Senior still retains enormous popularity. That incident at Godrics Hollow stirred up plenty of memories people would prefer stayed buried."

Surprisingly Lucius scowled when he mentioned the explosion, 'did the man know anything?' Something to consider at a later time.

"Bartemius isn't as popular as people might think, and with the guaranteed support of a dozen families, as I said – wide open."

"What hypothetically," Cornelius begun, remaining cautious. Even in his own office at the ministry, secrets and plans had a habit of getting out before the message could be controlled. "Would such distinguished individual need to do in return for such support." In for a knut, in for a galleon, "and to provide information to our fair community of the Wizarding Wireless Network and the Daily Prophet."

This time it was Lucius's turn to lean across the desk, grinning widely, teeth showing. The lack of emotion in his eyes was a little disconcerting, even to one as used to masks as he was. "Continue to look after the good witches and wizards of our community of course. Only the very best from the Ministry will do. I am sure that you will agree, Cornelius, that the people deserve the very best from its government."

"Absolutely Lucius, Absolutely." He held out his hand, it was firmly grasped. The deal was done. "I look forward to further conversations regarding your thoughts on how we can all improve and grow our magical community."

Lucius got up and bowed his head slightly, "it has been a pleasure Cornelius. I will see myself out."

The receding sound of a cane echoed before being cut off as his office door was closed by Lisa, his secretary. Cornelius didn't even notice, already his thoughts were running at a gallop. There were plans afoot, so much to do in so little time.

If he truly was successful. For the first time in a long time, Cornelius allowed himself to simile. It was barely an unpracticed curling of the lips.

'Millicent will be so disappointed.'

The next day, in a special edition of the Daily Prophet, it was announced. Minister Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Order of Merlin First Class, was running in the up coming election to become the next Minister of Magic.

(BREAK)

Daphne held her face in a look of icy calm, but inside she was beset with wild emotions. Only her eyes gave the disparity away. Fear, anxiety, helplessness, hope, anger. It had been a traumatic week. An elder of her community, a respected and powerful man had assaulted her. Painfully breaking into her mind, where she had felt safest, inside her own home. Her family in the next room over.

After, Daphne's father had examined her mind carefully and explained the magics that Albus could have left behind. Undetected, even with her father's inspections finding nothing.

She could do nothing, now or then. She just felt weak.

'Weak, very young and foolish.' Daphne thought in despair trying to quiet her mind. She felt so far away from the carefree girl she had been so recently. She couldn't find it within herself to care.

Albus Dumbledore was widely heralded a saint, a paragon of the highest virtue. He also held unassailable influence and power, both magical and political. She was only a nine-year-old girl. Magically and physically weak, vulnerable and not yet started on her formal magical education.

Even her family name had proved no real barrier or protection.

She shivered, drawing her coat closer to disguise the movement. So vulnerable. She hadn't considered how vulnerable, until her life had been shattered. The illusion of safety and magic, gone. Replaced by an ocean of fear, anxiety and mistrust.

'I could do nothing.'

Logically, she knew that she was being childish and should use this experience to make her stronger, but she couldn't help it. The pain and shock haunted her dreams. Albus Dumbledore's uncaring blue eyes – she really had meant nothing to him. A means to an end.

While the correspondence with Harry over the last year had spurred her to question and probe. Learning more about magic than she had thought possible before Hogwarts. There had always been an illusion, a fantasy unspoken. Harry Potter teaching her magic, pushing her to discover her family's mysteries and their shared heritage. There had been childish competition, excitement and adventure – a tantalizing hint that he would visit again or that she would.

Looking back, through the lens of distrust, she had overlooked the ominous edge of the Wizengamot maneuvers and the seriousness and costs to their community of the conflict with the dark lord. Those costs had been abstract, they had affected other families, never her own.

'I should have listened more closely when Harry outlined the root causes behind the rise and fall of the dark lord,' remorse coloring her thoughts. Those struggles, pain and very real consequences had not resonated. Now, she could no longer afford such a simplistic, childish world view. That veil had been ripped aside, and the world seemed a less vibrant and darker place.

The pain from the attack, echoed even now in remembrance, as the memory of his cold blue eyes pierced her. The shock and confusion – why? Her fear, freshly remembered, when Albus had drawn his wand. The dichotomy of the crushing relief and fear when her father had walked into the room. Logically she knew, she couldn't have done anything more. Yet she felt guilt that she hadn't put up more of a fight, and that guilt still overwhelmed her. She had been unable and incapable of defending herself.

Afterward, all she could do was to distract herself from the memories and the emotions that continued to unhinge her. 'Father tried over the week,' she thought graciously. 'But by far the most therapeutic thing were Harrys lessons.' Those at least provided some distraction.

Almost immediately the morning following the attack, she had demanded that Harry share the lessons and training that she suspected he had slowly been easing her into. Lessons that would allow her to fortify her mind, building and strengthening that very magical aspect that may have protected her.

Now too late, they may allow her to, if not accept, then at least put these events into perspective.

Daphne couldn't hide the shiver this time. Her father glanced at her, frowning in concern. There was no cool breeze, and she expected that her father knew the emotional depths that she had been struggling with.

'If only Harry had been more forthright in his teaching. Would I even have listened if he had?'

Perhaps Harry had been waiting for her to demand more information herself. For her to be more proactive in her learning and take more control of what he had been trying to teach her. She could not have foreseen such an awful event. She doubted that Harry had either, she was confident that he would have warned her if he had.

The first few days after the attack, she had felt unable to leave her room. 'Why had Albus Dumbledore done this to her?' Nightmares still haunted her dreams, and fear and anxiety filled her days.

Harry had done more than just pass along some more advanced lessons in response to her demands. He had also started to pass along correspondence to be shared with her father.

Those first few letters had become a flood, back and forth for days, as she stewed over his words and reflected on his lessons. She had confirmed what her father had told her. With mind magics, there were significant dangers. Someone could not only steal memories and learn hidden truths, but they could also implant them. Subtly compelling behavioral changes and even controlling thoughts and action.

Her father had continued unsuccessfully to reassure her. She doubted anything would again. 'How can I ever trust my mind and magic again after discovering that anyone with greater will and stronger magic can simply alter who I am?' It was a very frightening thought and had not improved her mood.

If she hadn't been motivated to learn before, she was now. Eagar even. Today, anger filled her thoughts and motivated her, today was a good day. 'Anger was better than deliberating fear or anxiety,' she thought.

Today her father had asked her to accompany him to the boundary of their estate. Gently encouraging and prodding. She had used her anger to force herself to accompany him when he had suggested that Harry was visiting. Anger at Harry for not teaching her more, teaching her faster. Anger at her father for not protecting her and Albus for attacking her. She was angry with herself for not having done more.

She was angry, it was so easy to be angry. There was a glimmer of hope too at Harry's visit. That glimmer was drowned in fear, anxiety and anger, so much anger.

Her face showed none of it, but her eyes glittered.

'I wonder why Harry is visiting now?' Daphne thought. She had been so preoccupied with her correspondence with Harry's lessons and her bubbling emotions, that she had not paid any mind to the letters addressed to her father.

They had seemed so unimportant compared with what Harry had been sending her. Those she had been studying and following diligently.

Even as she demanded more lessons, she was filled with anxiety and worry over whether she could feel any difference. Whether the lessons were having any effect or Albus had managed to implant something, undetectable by her father.

Not admitting to herself that one week was in no way long enough to make any substantive difference. Quietly acknowledging that her progress was going nowhere, as her magic and mind suffered under the turmoil of the last week.

Today a week later, those letters that she had paid no attention too, had her and her father standing at the very edge of their estate. It seemed that somehow over the last week, Harry had convinced her father to meet him here.

'If it were the other way, we would be waiting in the visitor's room for the floo to chime.' She knew her father well enough to make that determination.

Daphne held onto the anger and frustration as her father threw another worried look her way. She hardened her icy expression, clearly, she was not hiding her emotions as successfully as she had thought.

Her emotions were heightened by the physical distance between their location and the comfortable familiarity of her room within the manor. 'Anger is better than fear and anxiety, those left me bedridden. I was useless bedridden.'

'Why has daddy dragged me out here, what did those letters say.' She cursed herself for not being more curious. 'Why are we out here?' In spite of herself, she was curious.

Harry appeared from the invisible barrier that marked the edge of the Greengrass wards.

Somehow stepping from a space only marked from the inside by the transition of the manicured estate grounds and the Wales wilderness.

Her Icy expression shattered. That fear, the surprise of the unexpected, the echo of remembered pain.

'How?' she had expected him to walk up to the estate words, not magically appear out of them. 'What else did I expected, it's Harry Potter.'

There was no evidence that she could see or feel that their wards had been interfered with at all. 'Then again, I am only keyed in as a family member and I would be unlikely to feel anything more subtle than brute force at my age.'

"Harry," she greeted stepping closer to give him a fierce hug. Her face, showing clear signs of the struggle to regain its former icy calm. Daphne hated how her voice sounded in that moment, crackling and giving away her emotional turmoil.

Only once she had him tightly gripped in her arms did she allow for tears to silently fall. Leaving Harry looking to her father in what she expected was bewilderment. 'Even his magic seems to be calming, amazing.'

For the first time in a week, she felt an element of safety and control. 'Why couldn't he have come sooner?' She craved that certainty.

"Edward," Harry nodded to her father, even as he tucked her more comfortably to one side. The silk robes he was wearing were of the highest quality, she couldn't bring herself to care that she was ruining it with her tears. "As I promised, a connection that will not destabilize your own protections. You and Daphne are keyed in, your will and intent should allow you to pass through at your leisure. Intruders will not even know it's there."

Daphne hugged him tighter, her emotions seemed to unravel from the knot that she hadn't even been aware she had been holding so tightly. Harry's magic enveloped her as comfortably as his arms. He was bigger than she was.

It was a new experience and one she couldn't even describe, all the lessons over the week on calming the mind and her emotions had not achieved as much. First her anger dampened, then her fear and anxiety. "Daphne," Harry whispered gently, comfortingly. "I understand that you've had a rough week. Let's head back and well talk, all of us."

Daphne let herself be led back to the manor, still gripping Harry tightly. She barely noticed as Harry continued talking to her father. "I didn't realize that she had been so badly affected. Your letters didn't mention," he trailed off.

Edward growled - his anger was obvious to her. She had experienced that burning anger herself. "Albus, I am still of a mind to involve the ministry, consequences be damned. His actions could not have been designed better to damage my daughters psyche. I have tried providing what comfort I could."

"Trauma of the mind, at her age and level of training is always tricky." Daphne blinked at Harry's wording, what did he mean by her age? They were about the same age. "If we continue to work together, then she will be surrounded by friends and magic. Working towards a goal, it will help stabilize her mind and magic, maturity will do the rest."

Her father nodded stiffly in response, sighing again. He showed Harry through the manor, heading she noticed, towards his study. "I am very impressed by your portal. I was waiting to feel the wards react to your connection. Perhaps even to violently reject them. Even now, I can hardly feel the effect, very smooth."

Her father chuckled with dry humor, looking at Harry struggling to keep up with Daphne welded to his side.

"Truthfully, if I had not expected you to fail in the attempt, I would never have agreed to it. My home is as protected as I could make it over the years, I have spent more than a little blood and treasure on magical protections over the years. It is what keeps my family safe, recent events notwithstanding."

Daphne not paying much attention as she reveled in the comforting feel of Harrys magic, perked up at the mention of his portal and his dramatic entrance. "Even now, I can only really detect the intent based effect when I am close. Don't think I am not going to quiz you further on what you did. This impacts on the security of my home and family. Is there really truth in the rumors of Albus Dumbledore having mentored you?"

She was looking up at Harry, otherwise she may have missed the strange look that very briefly flittered across his face. She tried her best not to flinch too badly at the old man being mentioned, it had been a traumatic week. "I am afraid that Albus cannot claim the credit."

Harry looked down at her apologetically, "I never would have expected that he would go so far. Your friends in the Wizengamot cannot be pleased."

This time her father was the one who had a strange look on his face. 'What did I miss in their correspondence,' the curiosity burned washing way the fear and anger. For the first time since that time, the more negative feels felt in the background. Watching Harry and her father discuss politics was fascinating.

"You could say that. The Wizengamot is effectively deadlocked except for the most routine of business. There simply are not enough independents to support his agenda. All eyes are on the upcoming Ministry election to see if that breaks the deadlock."

Daphne choose a chair as close to Harry as she could once they arrived in her fathers study. "I must say, it is surprising to be discussing such things with a boy your age. What are you eight, nine?"

Harry titled his head, smiling up at her father. 'What is daddy up to?' Daphne wondered. When she met Harry before, she had noticed that he was big for his age. She had originally placed him as older by a couple of years. That had not changed, but any child would physically need to look up to a grown man.

"You know better Edward," Harry seemed completely relaxed. 'How is he so relaxed, my father can be quite imposing when he is trying.' Daphne thought, feeling like she was missing some key information. Which she was, 'I should have taken the opportunity to read those damn letters.'

"I am certain that I will be here long enough that Polyjuice won't be an issue. I can also feel the magic you have in this office – impressive. Did you do what I asked?"

Her father sat back in his chair, studying the boy next to her. Even at the periphery, she felt uncomfortable being captured by that look. Harry seemed amused if anything. 'So weird, what are they talking about?' She hated feeling left out.

"I did. Amelia was surprised when I reached out. Susan was quite open to the idea of widening her circle and her parents had no issues. You don't know anything about that?"

Daphne felt completely out of her depth as Harry's smile widened. 'What does Susan Bones have to do with anything?' It couldn't be any other Susan with Amelia mentioned in the same sentence.

While the girl was her age, the Greengrass Family and the Bones did not really interact that often. Certainly, apart from some formal events, she doubted she could pick the girl out from the crowd.

"A bet both ways, I did often wonder how you were so good at playing both sides of the coin. There will come a time when you will have to take a stand Edward."

Now her father smiled widely, matching grins with Harry. Daphne shivered. It was not a nice smile. "Amelia thinks I have a long-term political maneuver in play and required the usual assurances. She no doubt sees the opportunity to influence Daphne to her way of thinking as well. Despite what you may think, I think you are playing the dangerous game. Still Susan should be here within the hour."

Like a puzzle piece falling into place, it became clear.

"I want Tracey as well." Daphne was surprised that she had interjected so strongly. She suspected that she may have a little more insight into Harrys plans than her father. Somehow Harry had been teaching Susan as well.

Regular playdates for children of similar social status would provide a convenient front now that the portal provided ready access to Harry's Landholding. Harry would be able to provide a greater level of training than he had shared over owl post.

'I will not be jealous,' she murmured, slightly hurt that she was not as special as she thought. "I don't know Susan that well and would feel more comfortable with Tracey included," she announced, allowing her voice to tremble slightly.

Besides, she wanted to give her friend the opportunity to learn from Harry too. Out of all her so-called friends, Tracey was the only one that had believed her about Harry Potter. All of the others had laughed at her, accusing her of imaginary friends.

She would return the favor.

Harry's look at her father sharpened. "Tracey is a second cousin along a junior branch of the Greengrass family tree. Half-blood, but the relation is close enough for the secrecy provisions to work."

Harry leaned down to her encouragingly, "ok then Daphne. Why don't you try to get her, we will include her in the visit. After that we will see."

Not even waiting for her fathers dismissal, Daphne launched out of the study towards the floo. 'Harry and Father will be fine,' she though. Not even hesitating to leave the two alone in the study. It seemed strange, now that she thought about it, that Harry had negotiated with her father as an equal.

There was no adult, child dynamics at all. 'How did he do that? I should stop being surprised. Harry sometimes seems to know more than even father.'

Shaking that random thought away, completely overlooking the radical mood change compared to the morning. She just didn't think about the distinct lack of negative emotions that had seemed so repressive earlier. She felt normal again.

Arriving at the loo, she grabbed some floo powder and hurled it into the green flames. "Davis residence," she spoke clearly hopping Tracey was available for the visit.

"Daphne, dear how are you. We have been worried." Tracey's mum, when she appeared in the green flames, was a pleasant looking woman with dark hair and thin glasses. "You haven't been answering any of your mail, is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine Mrs. Davis. I have just been feeling a little unwell, is Tracey available to come through?" Bringing up last week reminded her of the painful emotions, an echo of which threatened to overwhelm her. The memory of Harrys magic and the thought of the upcoming visit successfully distracted her, vanishing those emotions. The excitement of her upcoming visit to Harry's filled her again.

"I don't know, she is behind on her chores again." Daphne heard yelling in the background coming from the floo. While she couldn't understand what her friend has said, the outrage was obvious. "Then there are her lessons."

More outraged yelling, still indistinct came from the floo, before her mum relented.

"If it's alright with your father dear." Tracey's mum smiled addressing Daphne.

At Daphne's nod, she disappeared from the green flames of the floo. The empty green flames allowed for Tracey to step through. Seeing her friend again and thinking about what she suspected Harry was planning, Daphne was bursting with excitement. 'This was just what I needed, and I know just the prank to play on Tracey to make today totally awesome.' If she pulled it off she would completely break herself out of her dark mood.

"Wow, you look horrible. Are you sure you're not sick?" Just like that, Daphne was reminded why she and Tracey were friends. Being from the same family, there were no social obligations or expectations, no social maneuvering – trust, honesty and friendship. 'So rare among my peers,' she thought darkly. 'All they wanted to do was rub their family's wealth or status into my face.'

'Even if I wish she were a little less honest some time,' Daphne considered wryly. She knew she must look horrible, pale skin, dull hair, sunken eyes. It had been a harrowing week, but Harry was here and was determined to draw a line under the previous one.

"Forget about that, I have a surprise for you." Daphne found herself giggling in anticipation of a successful prank as she grabbed Tracey's hand, almost dragging her towards the study.

"Daphne," Tracey complained, trying to keep up. "What surprise? You know I don't like surprises. Couldn't you have just told me through the floo?"

"But where's the fun in that?" Daphne was laughing in joy now. "You'll love it."

"Hey wait up," Tracy announced, still being dragged through the manor. "Your room is that way."

Shooting her a cheeky grin, Daphne kept dragging her. Now though, Tracey was clear getting caught up in the fun. "Is it candy? Oooh, did you get me that new dress I had my eye on?" Tracey let her imagination run wild as she got caught up in their game, unconstrained by practicalities, she continued. "A wand, untraceable?"

"What about a handsome prince for a boyfriend," she cheerfully continued with a giggle. Barging into the Greengrass study, chasing after Daphne.

It took her friend a few seconds to realize who else sat in the room and what they had no doubt overheard. Edward, Daphne's father, she had met before and that would have been embarrassing enough for her. Tracey stood awestruck and horrified, staring at Harry Potter.

Harry Potter.

Daphne watched as Tracey's face looked like it was going to explode.

She started snickering, chocking back laughter. "Your face, hah. Oh yes, just what I needed."

"Now Daphne," Edward chimed in gently, no hint of amusement on his face. "I think introductions are in order, perhaps after an apology for the lack of a handsome prince."

Daphne could no longer hold it in and giggled hysterically.

Tracey, deciding it was all one big joke, turned on Daphne. Pointing a finger accusingly at her childhood friend, "how could you. I was worried about you. You didn't answer any of my letters or floos and now this practical joke. How long have you been setting this up, since last year?"

Harry just cleared his throat from where he sat, across from her father, and offered her his hand. "Tracey is it? I am very pleased to meet you. I am indeed Harry Potter and I am very glad to see that Daphne is feeling better."

Daphne felt a little bit bad as her friend gripped Harry's hand and stammered out a greeting, shooting her a sideward glare. "So, Daphne didn't have an imaginary friend called Harry, I am so relieved."

Harry groaned before turning towards her father. "If you don't mind Edward, I'll bring the girls and meet you at the spot."

"Tracey," Harry started. Gesturing the girls to exit the study ahead of him, "what has Daphne shared with you?" Daphne started; he should know that she had agreed to not sharing anything he taught her to others. 'Then again,' she thought guiltily, she had also promised to keep their meeting a secret and she had boasted about that to friends.

"Not much Harry, Daphne mentioned meeting you last year. What are you doing here?" Now that they were walking out of the Manor, and the surprise had worn off, Tracey appeared at ease talking to Harry.

"Well, I have been teaching young Daphne here magic?" Daphne frowned again in thought. 'Young? He is the same age.' The memory of him confidently dealing with her father played in her mind. 'He is so much more mature and knowledgeable, perhaps that is it?'

"What," Tracey squealed in delight. "Daphne, you've been holding out on me." Grabbing her arm, almost throwing her of balance, Tracey completely scattered and distracted Daphne's train of thought. "How can you not tell your best friend. Has Harry been teaching you magic all along? Do you have a wand after all? What have you really been doing all week?"

Daphne grimaced, shaking her head, not at all comfortable taking about last weeks events. "No wand, Harry has been teaching me wandless magic. I promised him that I would not tell anyone."

"Daphne asked that I include you in our lessons," Harry interjected. "You will have to promise not to share any of the lessons without my permission. Ok?" Harry said from a step behind them, Daphne leading them to the spot on the grounds they had just left.

Tracey squealed again, gripping her arm tighter in excitement. "I promise, I promise. But where are we going?"

"Why to my place of course. Once Edward and Susan arrive that is." Tracey looked at her to explain, which she did quickly. She was relieved to be sharing the secret with someone and wondered if she would get along with Susan as well as Tracey. 'Why did Harry pick Susan Bones of all people? I would never have expected someone from the so-called light families.'

"Ahh there they are," Harry announced from beside them drawing her attention to her father and the girl her age beside him.

Daphne's first thought was that the red headed girl was a but pudgy, but on closer inspection she thought perhaps more nuggety that pudgy.

'As expected, I really could not have picked her out. She doesn't really look that special'

"Harry, I cannot believe you pulled this off." Susan sped ahead of her father and grabbed Harry in a hug of her own. 'So, she is close to him. I wonder what he has taught her? Am I further ahead?' Once again, she suppressed the jealousy that stirred. Why wouldn't he have taught others?

"Thank Edward, most of the work was his." Harry informed the girl graciously nodding to her father. "Shall we?"

Daphne trembled in disorientation as she stepped across the boundary of her estate into Harry's landholding. She would have tripped had she not been gripped by Tracey so tightly, the scenery changing so completely and unexpectedly. Her mind struggling to cope with the transition her eyes had told it to expect.

"Wow," her exclamation was matched by the other three girls. Growing up in a magical household, she had thought she was used to the feeling of magic. Seeing its effects all around her, even interacting with it in even the most mundane of ways. But here… 'The colors are so vibrant, the sounds so clear and the feeling of the ambient magic is like a caress on my skin.' She thought reverently. While she had been here before, this feeling was way more than she remembered. Far richer.

'Surely I would have remembered this? Not even the Greengrass estates feels like this.'

Dragging her eyes across Harrys small stone hut, towards the druids circle she grinned in anticipation. Those limestone slabs shimmered with so much life. 'How much easier, here in this place, will I find the magical exercises Harry has shared,' she wondered.

She exchanged an excited look with Susan. Tracey still seemed to be getting over the shock of Harry's home.

"Daphne, Susan, feel free to use the circle," Harry nodded towards his druid's circle as he led her father to his hut. "Take Tracey. Be careful of the lake however,' he warned motioning to the deep blue lake that sat below his druid circle. "Some of the more dangerous magical species have moved in."

As if called, Daphne saw ripples appear before a long fin broke the surface before disappearing. A thin tentacle surfaced lazily, drawing her attention. 'There is something not right about that,' she thought wondering what magical creatures it could belong to.

The strangeness of the tentacle, pulled at her mind, like an unscratchable itch. 'No ripples,' she realized. 'The fin created ripples, the tentacle didn't break the surface – how?'

Daphne nodding to Harry in furious agreement, 'I don't want to get too close to any magical creature that bizarre'. Instead she turned her attention to the druid's circle, where she planned to drag Tracey as quickly as she could. Not wanting to waste any time she had here.

It would be the first visit of many before Hogwarts, she was determined to learn as much as she could.

(BREAK)

Edward sat awkwardly balanced on a stool that was marginally too small for him. To the side was a fireplace, burning warmly and heating up the small one-bedroom hut unpleasantly. The stone walls provided, in his opinion, ample insulation against the cool Wales weather. Across a solid wooden table, Harry Potter stood balancing precariously, on his own stool pouring some tea in small china cups.

It was an action that effectively emphasized Harrys small stature in comparison to Edward, the adult in the room.

"I must admit, I doubted Daphne when she first mentioned her meeting with you." Edward started. If Harry was trying to make him uncomfortable by emphasizing his size or age, he would not succeed. A week of letters combined with the scene he had made by breaking through a decade of reinforced wards killed any illusion of that.

'I am a skilled operator and can tell when I am being managed. I hate being managed.' The fact it was by a child galled him. Even more so when it involved his family and his ability to protect them.

"I doubt even you could have orchestrated Albus Dumbledore breaking into Daphne's mind under my wards." He couldn't help a small hint of a question and accusation to escape. He had witnessed so many wonders of magic and seen its terribleness throughout the war, that he considered everything possible.

The strangeness of an eight-year-old pouring him tea in a one-bedroom stone hut, on what must be the most magically rich land he had ever visited, was certainly the more implausibly unsettling he had experienced recently. Combined with the earlier events at his home, he was left to question – who was Harry Potter. Every assumed knowledge needed to be scapped.

'No,' there had to be someone pulling the strings, orchestrating events. 'I refuse to believe that I am being managed by a nine-year-old.' Even after the show the aged wizard, and sometime political rival had put on, he expected Albus Dumbledore was the most likely candidate. Could it be someone else? Who?

Harry finished pouring the tea before taking a seat opposite Edward. He took a sip calmly. "I assure you Edward, Albus cannot even access this place. I doubt he knows it exists. Your daughter is safe here."

Unsaid was the small amount of trust being offered. A little piece of knowledge, with the hint of greater to come, 'yes. Harry potter has been trained well.'

Edward took a sip of his own tea, studying the boy in front of him. Harry Potter. No one had even had a hint of him since the night of the dark lords down fall. If Albus truly was not the benefactor pulling Harry's strings, it was true that Daphne was safe from Albus. Albus was not the only danger to his daughter however.

'In fact, she is only in danger from Albus because of Harry,' he reminded himself.

'What happened to make him like this? Was it the events of the dark lords vanquishing?' Edward wondered quietly. Harry was unlike any child he had met.

"Do you expect me to believe that you have done all this yourself, with no wand?" Edward had seen the quality of the druid's circle, even the stone hut was neat and homely. "No, you must have someone helping you. Who? What game are you playing."

Harry just watched him, quietly and took another sip of tea. Too calm, he had never known any young boy his age to sit so still.

"These estates, I don't recognize their location, where are we?" They were not part of any family estate he was familiar with. He had caught a glimpse of a pegged-out plan or a manor, as yet unbuilt. Where were they? His daughter may have missed the plants and animal species that populated the grounds, attracted by the level of ambient magic, but he had not.

Then there was the lake, Edward shuddered. That was not like any magical creature he had seen. Very dangerous. He would have asked more questions had he expected the boy, or whoever was backing him, to so easily punch through his wards. He should have anyway.

'An important lesson in arrogance.'

Now he was caught playing catch up, outmaneuvered in a political game with his family held hostage. Daphne was clearly smitten, extracting her if it became necessary would be difficult.

"Don't think me naïve Harry. I saw what you did back at the manor, I even know that you have been tutoring her. She would not have been asking me the questions she has if you hadn't been." Edward hardened his tone, attempting to unsettle the young boy.

The boy-who-lived just drunk his tea at the other end of the table. Nothing in his expression could be taken as confirmation or otherwise. Completely unconcerned that an unmade bed sat messily in the corner opposite the fireplace. The dichotomy of what appeared to me a master political player and an unorganized child was unnerving.

'I suspect a very deliberate strategy. Much like the stool that is by happenstance too small and the fireplace that is making the room slightly too warm.' He had used such techniques himself to unsettle people, making them a little more open to agreement.

Harry couldn't be experienced enough to know and use those negotiation techniques so effectively without help and tutelage. He was simply not old enough. 'Whoever the mysterious benefactor was, they have over played their hand. Their absence merely confirmed their involvement, not too many have this signature however.'

Getting nowhere, Edward tried another line of questioning.

"Why Susan?" Harry just sat there drinking his tea. He could tell a political negotiation as well as anyone, but how the hell was an eight-year-old doing this. Who was Harry Potter?

The only real leverage he had here was through his daughter and the farce that he had helped engineer with the Bones family. At cost, he could simply not play in the boy's games. Or he could take over the scheme and use Daphne's friendship with Susan for his own purposes.

No, this was still playing out.

With a final draught from his cup Harry sighed. "Edward, relax. You, your daughter, Susan even Tracey only have to fear the magical creatures that get too close to the residence. That is unlikely unless they conduct unescorted exploring. Daphne is a friend, Susan too. It gets lonely here with no company, and Hogwarts is still a couple of years away. That is why I reached out."

"The truth us, Albus has an unnatural fascination with the Potter family. I can only assume it has to do with his Wizengamot ambitions. My involvement in the demise of the self-styled Lord Voldemort probably didn't help." Edward jerked at Harry's casual use of the Dark lord name.

Speaking to him as an equal was one thing. Who had raised him with such lack of regard to the dark lord and his followers? 'HE might have been vanquished, but the families that believed as he did are still very active.'

Was that a hint about his upbringing, his benefactor's identity? Harry denied tutelage from Albus but no one else that he knew tempted fate like that, even after the war. The oddities kept adding up. Even if he was a genius, born magically powerful, had access to a secret library, only a silent partner could explain them all.

Yet, in combination they stretched implausibility and credibility.

It was too obvious a play that a lonely boy who lived, had escaped Albus clutches, and hungered for playmates his own age. Although it played into his grievances with the old politician, he well recognized the political import of his family and the Bones. Particularly when combined with the Potter name. With the Wizengamot deadlocked as it was, it was too suspicious. It was why Amelia had been suspicious, even without knowing about Harry Potter.

"Why not reach out to old Potter allies, even the Blacks could have provided asylum if they knew you were running from Albus." Were the Blacks behind this, it was just the secret ploy that they were known to pull. They had been very quiet recently, even with the war decimating their family, their wealth and influence could not be ignored.

Harry sighed, pouring himself another cup. Edward waved him off, "most of those families find themselves politically aligned to Albus. I may as well simply hand myself over to his guardianship."

"If that was to happen, I suspect I would only find myself back in my maternal Aunt care. It is a wonder that I have learned as much of my heritage as I have. They were quite forceful at banning the word magic."

Edward grimaced at the knowing look Harry shot him. Muggles suppressing magic was dangerous – what was Albus thinking. 'Muggles.' Edward almost spat at the thought. 'I know very well what Albus was thinking, what he is planning. I still don't know who it was that has disrupted those plans. Harry is being very good at not giving anything away.'

"The truth is, our community is dying." Edward jerked in surprise at Harry's words. That echoed his thinking a little too much. "We, collectively, have a rich magical heritage that begs exploration. Magical depths to research and build upon and endless opportunity. Instead we squander it."

"Just like three bullies in a sandpit, trampling the castles and kicking dirt in, we are killing ourselves. The ministry, two major wars, and Albus Dumbledore's greater good." Harry sneered at the last.

"You re right, Daphne, myself, even Susan, perhaps one day we may be in a position to do something about it. But for now. Were only children, not even started on our magical education."

Edward believed none of it. It was too neat. Still Harry had extended an invitation, he would be foolish to turn it down without a little more due diligence. Spiting Albus eye was for pleasure.

"I am willing to provide assurances of Daphne's safety. Hopefully by the time we finish here today you will be comfortable with the girls visiting unchaperoned." Edward took him up on his invitation.

Feeling the intent of the wards outside. Even being unfamiliar with the Potter family magic, the urge to build and create was obvious. The strength of the protections surprised him, with the concentric nature of magical protections of higher quality and complexity than he expected to find.

"You and your daughter will become a critical ally, particularly once I am of age to start my education at Hogwarts. Today, she is a friend and I really am just after the company."

Edward felt completely disarmed by Harry's earnest look. That made him even more suspicious. "I will accept those assurances. May your family wither and die if any harm falls upon Daphne when she is in your care. She is so happy when she is with you, I cannot do anything less. Tracey and Susan can take their chances."

Harry smiled, holding out his hand, "I suspect we Potters have already been living with that curse. Subject to the definition of harm, how could I refuse." Edward could not shake the feeling that he had fallen for a great con. But then he suspected that he would not be the only one. Perhaps some good would even come out of their friendship.

He was willing to watch how the cards fell for now. Daphne would have to do what was best for the family and their survival if they fell the wrong way.


End file.
